


Leave Her Alone

by PoisonHw



Series: French Sarcasm meets British Wit [1]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: All the love content is fluff I'm telling you, And it doesn't follow the actual real story at all, Angry male Assassins, Arno is a bit sassy, Did I mention the fic started before the story trailer even came out, Elise doesn't exist, Evie likes french guys, F/M, French vs English I feel like I'm writing history, I just reread the entire thing and oh my god the first chapters, Jacob is over-possessive, Prepare for cliché cliffhangers, Some fight also, They all live at the same time, i promise you it gets better, nothing's like in the game ok, you might be lost if you played syndicate before reading
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-08
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2018-04-08 08:02:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 47,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4296960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoisonHw/pseuds/PoisonHw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He came into his country, his city, his Brotherhood. And he pretty much claimed his sister.<br/>That was far too much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The guest

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so consider this one my first real fanfiction. I don't know where this will go, but I'll try to update as fast as I can. Evie and Jacob are written the way I think they are.  
> Feedback and suggestions are always welcome :)
> 
> Once again, sorry for the possible errors in my english, don't hesitate to point them out to me.  
> Characters belong to Ubisoft.

"Ladies, Gents, this is Arno Dorian."

* * *

Jacob was late. Not that is was unusual (quite the contrary, in fact), but he hated being late. The Grandmaster didn't tell the messenger if his so-called meeting was important or not. So he had to go, you know, just-in-case. Unlike the others, he had a gang to take care of, and shit, it wasn't that easy. They all thought he could come whenever they wanted him to. No. There was always something to do, introduce a new Rook, tell an asshole to fuck off. Kill an occasional bad guy.

He opened the door of the headquarters violently and without a single care in the world... Just to find everyone already here. Well. That was some late arrival. When he says 'everyone', there is no exaggeration. Almost the whole brotherhood was here, assassins he knew, young recruits, and, of course, Evie was sitting in a wooden chair close to the left wall. But his eyes stopped on someone else, a stranger standing next to the Grandmaster, arms crossed. This one was an assassin, there was no denying it from the way he hold himself or for his hood, or for his partially visible hidden blades, or the weird mini-crossbow on one of his gauntlets which wasn't at all a common thing. But he was definitely not a British one. If in London they all wore mostly dark clothes, he wore a long navy blue coat, a red scarf and... Was that yellow? Or beige? top. Yellow, really? The guy was everything but discreet. And by his eyes, he was judging Jacob as well. 5 seconds, and the Rook already wanted to beat him. Damn. That was a new record.

"Mister Frye. Nice of you to join us, with your usual punctuality and so much respect for our door."

Jacob's gaze turned to the Grandmaster. He unfortunately didn't have a punchline right now, so he just shut his mouth and silently took a seat.

"As I was saying... This is Arno Dorian. He's a brother Assassin, from the French Brotherhood. He is here for one of their mission and will stay in the headquarters for a while until he is finished. Until then, consider him an ally."

Oh. French. Well that explained all the colors. Frenchies and their need to be seen.  
But was that all? Did he come just to know some guy he would never see again came here, when he had so much job to do? Damn it.

The other assassins weren't that tolerant (for obscure reasons. what did he do to them?). Either they didn't like French men, or they didn't like this one in particular, or didn't want him, or just were idiots who couldn't help but complain for nothing whenever they had the chance (he was rooting for this one).

"And what's that mission of his? We can do things. Don't need ya mate. Ya can go back to your part of the world."

If he were at Arno's place, Jacob would've called the bastard names and beat him because what he was doing here wasn't his problem. But Dorian seemed to be more polite, and only raised an eyebrow at the remark. Before the Grandmaster could say anything or punish the insolent, or whatever he wanted to do to him, his guest answered calmly the first (and probably not the last) question he'd been asked today. (with, let's be honest, a pretty horrible accent.)

"We had a traitor in our ranks. He's been one of us for some years and changed his loyalty all of the sudden. Took lots of infos with him. He knows we can track him so he lost us by crossing the sea. We believe he's in London to give the information to our Templars via yours, or just to hide them until he's safe, but he probably won't come back home. So I was sent here to take him before he does too much damage."

'Our Templars'. That was a funny way to call the enemy, he gave him that. But then, without any transition, the Rook saw Arno clench his teeth, murdering the asshole with his eyes, and say loud enough for everyone to hear clearly:

"Either way, it's none of your fucking business, _mate_."

Now that was more like it. Jacob wanted to laugh or clap, but the room was dead silent so he restrained himself and just waited patiently for the rest to come. The Grandmaster cleared his throat.

"...Right. So..."

"Gotta take him back to France when you find him? Cause that'd be bloody tiring and you'll have trouble finding help, dear."

It was Evie who talked. Her brother stared at her, but she didn't pay attention nor see him, as she was watching Arno like he was a freaking prize she wanted to have very badly. Although the question was quite useless, she seemed far too interested in the answer. Was that a sort of test for the guy? Anyway, it was supposed to be in the not-your-fucking-business category, just like the question he was asked like two minutes ago. But, with a smirk, Loverboy answered. HE ANSWERED. 

"No. The plan is simple, find him, learn what the hell he did with the info. As for the final touch..." he raised a hand and unsheathed his hidden blade, which seemed far too shiny to be real. "I cleaned this just for him."

And still the smirk. Evie seemed satisfied with this answer. Jacob also saw some smiles in the assembly. Oh, come on! The man was playing with them! He wasn't even built for killing people. How was he an Assassin? Unbelievable. Before he could roll his eyes, he saw the Grandmaster, who seemed tired of this, and couldn't bear one more question when he was trying to talk, stand up suddenly; he started to speak really loud, though he didn't shout.

"As I was trying to say, Arno has never been to London. I need someone to show him the city, teach him some tricks. Not some brutal tank like our beloved Mister Frye over there, the French Brotherhood apparently prefers stealth so I want someone who actually obeys the Creed and uses discretion in their missions. Any volunteer?"

"I'll take him."

No. Nope. He was dreaming. Evie didn't say that. She didn't. During her free time she was supposed to help him with the gang, for she was the reasonable one. She didn't have time to show the city to a random Frenchie who suddenly came here because of a simple mission. So yes, there was no better teacher than her if he wanted to play with a little stealth (and that explained quite well the way he was built. If he didn't need to fight in the open, of course he didn't need to be a big guy, that's why he was just tall and slim.) But she had other business. This wasn't fair.

Jacob could wait until everyone was out before saying how he didn't agree to the situation. He could. But he didn't. Because he was Jacob fucking Frye and he wasn't just going to wait and talk to his sister when the idea had been in her mind for too long, and/or when nobody could hear them fight over such a little thing. So he expressed his thoughts right here, right now, in front of the whole brotherhood and the idiot guest, like a child who didn't get what he wanted, and, deep inside, he knew he lacked a lot of maturity.

"What the hell Evie? You got the gang to help me with, remember? We're gonna take another soon! You're a leader too! You can't do that! You don't have time for this brat."

He didn't really know what would be her reaction, but he clearly saw Arno raise both his eyebrows like he couldn't believe what he heard, and the muscles of his crossed arms tensed behind the blue fabric of his coat. Jacob wasn't in the best place to call him that, and he knew it, but he didn't find anything better so he'd stick to 'brat'.

"Oh I'm _sorry_ , Jacob, am I your property now? I do whatever I want. Don't you dare tell me what to do. Go back to your Rooks, give me peace and grow up. You're a big man, you can take care of your men alone."

If the other Assassins knew better than to do anything during one of the twins' fights, Arno was trying really hard not to laugh out loud, slowly failing to do so. What he was doing right now looked like some sort of chuckle. Asshole. Going out as carelessly and quickly as he entered, Jacob mumble an answer no one could hear (hopefully). 

"By all means, I can."

He got out of the building so fast he couldn't see the way everyone watched him. His fellow Assassins were only surprised and so was the Grandmaster, still standing behind his desk. But Evie just rolled her eyes with a satisfied smile, having just broken her brother for the day. As for Arno, he calmed down, his lips forming the biggest grin ever known, congratulating Evie with some "Good job, now that was fun." He didn't know how much trouble he just put himself in by only coming in England. Jacob wouldn't let a stupid French wanna-be womanizer touch his sister. Not without a little fight. He would break him just for the way Dorian looked at her.  
Yes, he was over-possessive. Yes, it wasn't supposed to be his problem. No, he didn't fucking care.

He stole a carriage and made the horse run as fast as possible. He had a bunch of talented guys to train. He was going to take control over London for the Assassins, with or without his twin. But, even as he entered the part of the city where they ruled, he couldn't think of anything else than the way she looked at their new guest. He had never seen her like that, for she was always deep in her work, throwing away any other thought she could have. But Loverboy, she wanted him. Badly. And he seemed to want her as well. It made Jacob kind of sick to even think about it.

Stopping the carriage, he prepared himself to join his men and ask for news about the neighbors. Suddenly realizing Arno and Evie were taking far too much place in his thoughts, he muttered.

"Asshole."


	2. Introductions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first two chapters are to introduce Arno and Jacob, and the fact that they both have different points of view. That's why they were here so quickly.  
> The next ones will contain both pov and will not arrive that fast, sorry about that! Hope you'll still enjoy, I'm not sure about the quality of this one though.
> 
> Characters belong to Ubisoft.

"You will go. I don't want to hear you complain anymore."

Arno growled. He usually was a good Assassin. He obeyed orders. His mission were done quickly, cleanly and without questioning. But this one was too much. He just learned he was sent to London to chase a traitor who took informations. Some of them endangering the Brotherhood if ever falling into the hands of Templars. But he didn't want to go, mostly because he didn't even have a partner in this. They were sending him _alone_. Really? Oh but _don't worry, Dorian, we contacted the British Brotherhood, they are ready to welcome you for as long as you need_. Yeah, great. It's okay to go alone, you have a whole bunch of so-called 'brothers' from another country you never went to, basically strangers, to help you. That is, if they want, but oh well. Don't you like surprises?

Suddenly, he wished he never learned to speak English.

* * *

The ship was small, and the captain had refused to let him help in any way. So Arno was sitting in a corner, as bored as anyone could possibly be, polishing and cleaning his hidden blade. He was prepared to use this and cut the traitor's throat, because he already hated him for making him come here. There was no word to describe how much he was going to enjoy this assassination.

The captain was barking order at what he called a crew. It started to really annoy the Assassin. Wasn't the sea supposed to be a peaceful place?

" _Mais ferme-la_ " he mumbled.

After what seemed to be an eternity, they docked. Pulling his hood on, Arno gazed upon London for the first time while getting off the boat. Well, it sure was different from Paris. He then looked at the people. _Oh_. They could have told him everyone was wearing dark things. Now he was like the black sheep, wearing all these colors. He sighed. That was a good start... His eyes finally stopped at the sight of another hooded man. He took ten seconds to carefully look at the outfit. Yeah. Definitely an Assassin. He was told the Grandmaster himself would come and fetch him. _Anything for a guest_. Although there might be a reason. Taking a deep breath, the Frenchman started to walk in the other man's direction. His target apparently saw him too, and they found themselves shaking hands for no reason at all.

"Arno Dorian, is it?"

"Yes. Are you the Grandmaster?"

"That I am. Welcome to England. Let's go to the HQ. You can admire the city on the road."

And they headed towards a carriage. It started as soon as they entered.  
Admire was a very big word for what he could do. He merely observed the city. So far, he didn't like it really much. There was no joy here, or at least he didn't see any. Perhaps from another place, watching another part of the city, he would see the sadness fade. But here he saw only poverty, lots of people, houses, buildings, some trees, carriages, and dark. Everything was dark. That's why he was the black sheep; everything here lacked the color he wore. The road were almost full, and there was no order whatsoever. One thing that really caught his attention, though: he didn't see any guard or police or else. It was like people's safety was something whoever ruled here didn't care about. 

That's when the other talked.

"You seem interested, Mr Dorian. What do you think of London?"

Could he tell him the truth? He probably wouldn't like it if a stranger came to tell him Paris was shit. That would hurt him inside. And he didn't doubt the man would feel the same for his beloved city. He was still here and he was dedicated to protect it. He most likely loved it. But then again, lying to this kind of person? Not good. He could only try not to be too harsh telling what he thought.

"It's... Different. Kind of sad. I don't see any kind of police, does anyone even rule this city?"

"Ah. We'll explain that later, perhaps. I need to present you to the Brotherhood first."

 _Perhaps_? And without another word from either of them, the trip was finished. And what did he mean exactly when he talked about presenting? He was pretty sure the man had gathered everyone to welcome him, and he had this feeling he wouldn't be well-liked.

As it turns out, both his intuitions were right. The entire British Brotherhood was present. They were mostly men, and something like 2 or 3 women. One of said women was sitting on the left, her outfit shouting 'Master Assassin'. Impressive. And they all looked at him when he entered, most of them with disdain or anger. What the hell did he do to them? Last time he had so many eyes on him... Well, it never happened.  
The Grandmaster motioned him to stand next to his desk. Right. Here comes the moment his name would be known.

"Ladies, Gents, this is Arno Dorian."

He didn't have time to continue. The door brutally opened, revealing an Assassin. How delicate. Arno was surprised the door was still standing. And the guy almost knocked out some brothers in the process. The French Assassin studied him. He was wearing the same clothes as everyone in the room. Except for the hat. He wore a ridiculous black top hat. Since when did the hood got replaced by this? Looking up, he saw the man staring at him, too, though he didn't look at him the same way his brothers did. There was no disdain, or anger, just interest. He was actually looking at his outfit. _Yeah, I'm wearing colors. So what?_ 5 seconds, and he already wanted to beat him. Damn. That was a new record. Especially since it wasn't in his nature.

After a remark from the Boss, new-guy took a seat and the presentation started over. He thought it was going to be quick and easy. Just saying his name, don't kill him, he'll stay here and you can all go home. Oh, how wrong he was. They really didn't like him. The asshole asking the question could have told him 'fuck off', it would have meant the same bloody thing. But Arno would not give the bastard the satisfaction of having annoyed him. He was gentleman with the ladies, and calm and polite with the men. So he answered. Not without giving the man a taste of his own words, of course, because sometimes you have to show them what it feels like. And then another question. This was a useless one, actually, and not her business, but she was the woman he saw when he entered. So he smirked (okay, that wasn't really a gentleman thing, but she wasn't a fragile lady either), and he responded. He couldn't help but notice the way she looked at him. Like a predator. He liked that. First time in his life he was looked at this way.

And then came the surprising part. An impatient Grandmaster asked for someone to be his guide in London. _Hum, no thank you, I can handle myself?_ He had barely finished to talk, the same girl proposed to take him. If everyone was satisfied with not having to take him through the whole city, when they certainly had soooo much things to do, one of them was suddenly very pissed. The one who arrived late. 

Arno watched them both carefully. There was something. Siblings. They were probably brother and sister. As he looked at them, he saw more and more similarities. And it got better when they started to fight. So it was Evie and Jacob. He needed to remember those two names. And came the argument between the two of them. Something about a gang. Her being a leader. What the bloody hell was he talking about?  
At some point, Jacob called him 'brat'. He raised his eyebrows. Did he really hear what he thought he heard? It took all his good will not to go straight to the other guy and destroy his pretty British face. He could come out with lots of curses, too, but he tried to calm down. Instead, he listened to Evie crush her brother in millions of pieces. She was really talented. The fight ended up with her winning hands down and him rage quitting the room, muttering some things for himself.

Meanwhile, Arno was chuckling. And he knew the other heard him. But he continued. He calmed down when the Grandmaster, after a long sigh, dismissed everyone and told them to return to whatever they were doing before the meeting. He approached Evie with a grin.

"Good job. Now that was fun."

"This is the usual way. I've done better. So, Arno, wanna rest before we explore London? You seem so appreciated here, I'd understand if you want to stay even longer and meet everyone", and she looked so satisfied.

"I just had the longer and most boring trip of my entire life to come here. There's no rest to have anymore. Show me your city, Evie."

"Seems like something I can do. "

"And I have some questions, too."

"If you keep a good behavior perhaps I'll answer one or two for you. Let's go."


	3. Mr Frye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I needed to write this, so here is Chapter 3, sooner than expected!
> 
> I also just realized I put Word in English from UK and there are actually 18 different English. I don't know what to take. The struggle is real.  
> Thank you for the kudos and the comments :)
> 
> Characters belong to Ubisoft.

"So, from what I can see, you're not really excited by London. Not liking it?"

They were walking next to each other, Evie pointing out the important places of the city. Having no more angry Assassins with them was a blessing.

"I'll be honest with you; no, I don't like it."

"Well I certainly hope seeing it from above will change your mind."

"Surprise me."

She smirked. No matter how much sarcasm she put in it, Evie had such a beautiful smile. It made her whole face shine a little under her black hood. She finally spotted a tall building, big enough for her liking. Gesturing Arno to follow her, she aimed for the top of it, climbing with ease the pale walls. After a pretty short time, they found themselves standing on the roof, looking at a pretty big part of London. _Wow._  
This was a whole new city he saw. There was the same pattern he had seen when he arrived. Below, the town was still dark and sad. But from the roof, he could see the sun shining on the carriages, the trains passing far from his position. What he thought was a pure chaos when he was into it appeared to be much more organized than expected. He didn't realize he was staring at the horizon before Evie talked.

"What about now, Dorian?"

He didn't see her, but he could hear her grin anyway. Turning to face the other Assassin, he gave her his most sincere smile. 

"Yeah. Good job, you got me, Frye."

* * *

"That's not punching, man, I didn't feel anything."

Jacob had fought enough people in hand-to-hand combat to know how hard a punch was going to be, when seeing it. That's the reason he was the target when training his own new Rooks. The funnier thing was that they were afraid. He was the boss. You don't kick the boss. What they didn't seem to understand was that he could dodge. Whenever the punch was good, he managed to get out of the way. And if the man still hit him, he was considered a good one and acclaimed.

This one wasn't that strong, but the Assassin knew he could handle himself. He sighed.

"Believe in yourself, mate. I'm not trying to hit you, but the enemies will. And they're as dangerous as me."

Actually, that wasn't true. The reason he was the boss was specifically because he was the most dangerous of them all. But, eh, anything to help his guys.

"Look, if you can't fight, just get out of here and never come back."

This seemed to trigger something into the boy's brain. _Now give me your best_. Finding some anger, he saw his recruit suddenly run and tackle him. He didn't see that coming.

Unable to dodge, Jacob fell and watched as the guy stood up on his knees, holding his boss firmly, and threw a punch at Jacob's face like his life depended on it. (well, actually, it did, so...) A member of the gang took the man off his boss, while another helped him get up.

"It's okay guys. I knew he had it in him." 

Someone brought him his hat, and he touched his face where he'd been hit. There even was a bit of blood. Looking at the man, he approached, smirking at the look of fear he saw in the other's eyes. He patted his shoulder before leaving, escorted by three men.

"Take care of who you tackle during the real fights, mate."

* * *

"So, what is this gang story? Time to explain."

They were down in the streets again, after admiring the view one last time. They were walking to God-knows-where, and Arno still had this question in mind. He wanted to know.

"Ah. Well. You see, at the moment, London is... divided. Templars are controlling all of it as we speak." Arno frowned. What? "And to do so, they use street gangs, who do their dirty work for them" she finished.

" _...Merde!_ "

Evie didn't speak French, not even a word, but she knew a curse when she heard one. Arno had closed his eyes and was biting his lower lip. Something wasn't right, apparently, and she couldn't manage to understand what.

"What's wrong?"

"Obvious. My target has probably taken refuge in one of the gang. He's a fighter, they can't say no to him."

Realization seemed to struck Evie like a lighting strike. This was not good for the Frenchman, if the target was actually in a gang. He was in trouble.

"I have contacts in the city. You can seek them and see if they have anything about your man. And if they find nothing, we'll go and search all the gangs."

"Doesn't change anything. I can't just sneak into the den of a whole gang, kill a man and expect to get out alive."

And it was unfortunately true. As good as he was, going in like that was suicide, especially alone. Evie knew from experience. And she didn't know if she would be allowed to help him.

Arno couldn't believe it. 'The plan is simple', he said. Of course it wasn't. How could he be so naive. What an idiot he was. He'd thought London was like Paris, but so far he's been wrong all along. _Great._ He needed to study the gangs to find a way. Chances the guy wasn't in one were pretty thin.

"We could use the Rooks."

It was Evie who talked. Arno raised an eyebrow. Rook? Wasn't that a bird? Then again, he remembered her mentioning it to Jacob. So what was that all about? She saw his expression, concentrated on her, and answered his silent question.

"My brother and I have a gang, called the Rooks. We plan to attack all of the others one by one to take back the city. They could be a distraction, while you sneak in to find your target."

"I don't know your brother that well, but he'll say no."

And Arno knew he was right by the look Evie gave him. But, he thought, if someone could change her brother's mind, it was her, right?

"I don't care. We go."

* * *

"Good job men!"

Jacob was proud of his Rooks. And of himself. He managed to finish the business he had for the gang today. He trained the new recruits and learned the last news about the other gangs. Not so far from Devil's Acre, was another little gang ready to be taken down. At least, according to his men.

He was now prepared to leave and drink a bit in whatever bar he could find on his way.

"Jacob!"

 _Damn._ He knew this voice by heart. He was beginning to feel sick just hearing it. Sighing, he turned back and saw his sister in front of him, eyes judging him like they always did. He wasn't drunk, and apart from some dust on his coat, due to the training, she had nothing to reproach him for.

Except the way he left the Assassin headquarters, but hey. He was a big man, she said it herself. He could do what he want.  
Some of the Rooks were still outside, now watching the twins with interest. There was always something good when they were together.

"What do you want Evie? Not with your Loverboy?"

As she was watching him, her glare a mix of questioning, incredulity and disappointment, he heard a noise on his right. Turning his gaze, he saw a blue figure jump from the roof and land on the ground, in front of him. Of course he was here. Why wouldn't he be. Arno was facing him, looking at him from under his hood, a visible grin on his face.

"What is he doing here?!"

With an angrier look than expected, Jacob had turned to face his sister. She returned him the look, teeth clenched, and didn't have the time to answer; Arno did it first.

"Asking for a favour, Jacob."

Fatal error. Said British Assassin walked closer, his inside on fire.

"You're in my property. For you, here, it's _Mr Frye_."

"I'll call you _Mr Frye_ the day you call me _Mr Dorian_. And we both know that's not going to happen, don't we, _Jacob_?"

Arno, too, had come closer. Suddenly, a Rook (a well-built one, to be more specific) started to come in front of the blue-coated Frenchman, fists at the ready. Shit.

"Is the man troubling ya, boss? I can take care of him for ya." and Jacob didn't have time to answer, even if he didn't want to say no.

"You don't want to do that."

The only reason Arno talked was to take a second and anticipate the attack. And he   
was right to do so. In his pride, the man didn't even try to think and threw his fist in a straight line in front of him. The Assassin ducked, causing his opponent to be off balance. Standing up quickly, he hit as hard as possible the other's neck with his elbow, which was soon followed by the biggest punch of his life in the man's face; the guy fell on the ground with a loud noise.  
As he was trying to retreat, still awake, Arno unsheathed his hidden blade, and put it on his opponent's throat.

"Next time, I won't let you live."

As the other nodded with all the fear in the world covering his gaze, Arno stood up again, eyes on Jacob. The Englishman was watching silently, as one of his men just got knocked out by a brother he thought couldn't fight in the open without breaking his arm. He look at his hands and spotted the gloves. No brass knuckles. He wasn't that weak. He didn't use help.

Frenchie wasn't happy. At all. And he didn't seem to want a favor anymore. On one hand, it was good. On the other...

"Damn it, Jacob!" his sister was pissed and looked both at him and Arno.

"Leave it, Evie. I'll find another way to do it. Thank you for your help."

And with that, Loverboy climbed the wall again, disappearing on the rooftops of London. Humpf. Coward? Or maybe not. Who was at fault now? Jacob didn't even know. The majority would vote for him, as usual. Evie's vote usually counted for ten.

"Great. I won't be able to find him now. I don't know why you hate him so much, considering he did _nothing_ to you, but that only makes you an idiot, no better than anyone in the Brotherhood. I hope you're proud of yourself."

Ouch. That hurt. He liked to say to whoever was patient enough to listen that he wasn't the average Assassin, that he was better and all this shit because he didn't hide. She knew where to hit.

"I actually am."

What he wasn't expecting there was her slapping him like he was a reckless child. Which, according to her, he was anyway. At least that's what she told him every time.

"You're a bastard, that's what you are."


	4. Lost and found

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today was National Day here in France. I'm feeling good, so I made Chapter 4!  
> I hope you like it.  
> Sidenote: if you see French words that I didn't translate, it's because I checked they were translated correctly on google trans so it's safe xD
> 
> Characters belong to Ubisoft.

" _Enfoiré d'Anglais_."

This was one of the many curses Arno had pronounced during the last ten minutes. He still couldn't believe he just had to fight a man. Well, if you could call that a fight. He hadn't even been hit. But what he recalled was Jacob not saying anything. The English bastard could have stopped his man with a word. A simple 'stop' would have been more than enough. The man was respected by his gang. But he didn't move or speak. The Frenchman was no fool. This lack of reaction wasn't due to shock or surprise. The other Assassin had stayed silent because, without explicitly giving an answer, he had said yes to his recruit. No doubt he had no regret.

But if he had none, Arno on the other hand had some. For a moment, between Evie and him, there had been trust. He had accepted. He had agreed to go with her. She was probably angry, beating her brother as he was thinking. What she probably didn't realize was that she was responsible too. He heard it from her own mouth, ' _my brother and I have a gang_ ', and from Jacob's, ' _you're a leader too!_ '. The Rooks had two leaders. Both supposed to fight with him. Oh how well that went. Having to fight one of their men instead. What if he had been beaten?  
Finished. No more trust without a good reason.

Looking up from where he'd stopped, Arno tried to recognize the place. Flash news: he didn't. In his anger, what he apparently did was running and jumping on random buildings. How was he going to find his way back to the headquarters? Then again, did he really want to go back? He had learned two important things during the little time he had spent here. First, the Brotherhood was falling apart (and knew how to hide it), without any control whatsoever on the city. Second, they didn't like him. If Evie and the Grandmaster were actually a bit nice with him, nobody in the bloody hideout had been waiting to know him before having an opinion about him. He didn't want to go back.

But, that was where he was supposed to live. Where he could communicate with his own brothers. With his own Brotherhood, or, even, his family.

Sighing, he tried to find a clue to where he was. No sign. No map. He could not go in the streets alone and expect to have people tell him where he was. His outfit alone was suspect enough. And he didn't remember the direction given to the coach driver by the Grandmaster.

"Great."

* * *

"What do you mean you _lost_ him?"

Evie sighed. This was the third time she had to explain what happened. Jacob looked at her from where he stood. She had dragged him back here after what happened. He still didn’t have any possible regrets about not telling his man to back off. But now Arno was lost and everyone was pissed at him. Whatever. The brat deserved it.

"You heard me... After almost having a fight with one of the Rooks, he went God-knows-where."

"What I heard, actually, was that your bad idea of making a gang ended up with a brother almost knocked out for no reason, and a guest from another country lost, _because you didn't have the good idea of following him_! I trusted you Evie. Out of all the Assassins here, I thought you would be the wiser. Looks like I was wrong."

Evie looked at the floor with shame. Her brother wanted to roll his eyes, but he felt bad for her. Never did she heard this directed to her. She always was the actual wiser. She was the talented Assassin who respected the Creed, did her mission like she had to, and became Master Assassin in a really short time due to her talent.

"Hey, he's a grown man. He'll find his way back."

"Will he, now? Next time, I'll send you to Paris and ask for them to abandon you in the middle of the city. We'll see how you do."

Damn. He was angrier than ever. This was almost a threat. The Rook, once again, should probably have stayed silent. Well, it was done, now.

"The reason I wanted someone to show him the city was exactly this one. He's not like us. He doesn't blend in the crowd here. He's a suspect to everyone in bloody London. And now he's alone."

In a sudden instant of understanding, Jacob thought about going to search Loverboy himself. Repay his debt and all. But it had been hours. The guy could be anywhere. And he knew how to defend himself. It already was a lost cause. The only thing they could do was to wait and hope he'd find the way. Considering the whole Brotherhood hated the Frenchie, asking them to go and search for him wasn't even worth the time.

"So what do we do now? He's been gone for hours."

Someone would've answered the question, but the door brutally opened, for the second time of the day.

"...Problem solved."

* * *

"What is the problem with this city!"

The moment with the Rooks seemed to have happened ages ago. Now he was even more lost than he had previously been. At some point, he had recognized a large street he remembered crossing with Evie (or was it really this one? who knows) He had then been forced to get down and jump off the rooftops. As he was walking in alleys (each one of them seemed darker than the previous one), he encountered a single man. His first British enemy. Unfortunately, Arno apparently had no luck in this country. The man saw right through him in a second.

"You. Assassin!"

Right. The hood. Damn. The way the man jumped to run the other way, eyes wide open, made his intentions pretty clear. The blue-coated Assassin wasn't in the mood. Really. The guy would never see his boss again.

"Oh no, you don't."

The Frenchman checked his Phantom Blade quickly; stretching his arm in the thug's direction, he aimed for the neck. The little blade hit right in its target. The man fell, putting his hand where the blade was still stuck, crying in pain.

With a feelingless expression and without a word, the Assassin walked towards his new target and coldly finished him. No more time for emotions.

He hid the body in a place that seemed darker than the rest, and went back on his way to the headquarters research.

After a few more ages (this was starting to be really long), he finally found a street he knew. The sun was starting to disappear when he arrived in front of the door. He opened it like he saw his new best friend do earlier that day.

The look of surprise in everyone's gaze was as intense as the hatred in Arno's eyes. If they were pistols, everybody would be dead.  
Evie and Jacob were here, along with the Grandmaster and two brothers. He didn't care about the door. With a murderous look for the twins, he went to the dorms.

"I killed a man. Thought you might want to know."

* * *

"Well. At least he's not dead, right?"

Evie looked at Jacob. Disappointment once again. Hey, if one of them had to go after him, it was her. SHE was the one supposed to show him the city. This time, _she_ was at fault. She tried, she said. I looked everywhere and didn't see him, she said. But now she seemed desperate and she would never dare to go to him and apologize or whatever she wanted to do. He had to do it, for the sake of his sister. Payback, once again? Maybe this time he didn't have any personal reason to do it. 

Letting her go her own way in a corner, he entered the dorms. All rooms were separated. While he was searching for Arno's one, he wondered what he would say.  
Damn, he didn't know. Beat him seemed to be a good idea according to his inner self. That's what he wanted to do since the first 5 seconds, after all. But that wasn't going to arrange anything. Talk to him? He wasn't good at that. Telling him to forgive his sister? And then what? The guy would still hate him and tell him to fuck off. That's probably what he was going to do in the first place. Taking a deep breath, Jacob finally found the Frenchman's chamber. It was almost completely dark inside. A little light could be seen. He entered.

"And what do you _think_ you're doing?"

The tone was harsh. The Rook jumped. Damn. He didn't see him. Stealth, huh. Loverboy, for once, had his hood off, showing his dark ponytail. He was sweating, and everything led to believe he was exhausted. After a whole day running everywhere, no doubt, the Englishman gave him that.

"...I want you to forgive."

"Forgive who? Your man for trying to hit me? You for letting him try? Your sister for doing nothing? The man I killed for trying to get in my way? Don't make me laugh."

"My sister didn't do anything!"

"And that's _exactly_ the point! You both said it! She's the leader of your fucking gang, too! She had a right to say something and she didn't. You can tell her that. I tried to trust her. She'll have to do better next time."

Jacob was surprised. Oh. He didn't think about it. She would never admit it. But. Next time? Because he thought there would be a next time? ...Of course there would be one. He would never forget the look his sister gave the Frenchie when he arrived. Never. She would try anything.

"What is happening here?!"

Speak of the devil... Evie was right here, in front of them, one step behind the door. She was looking at Jacob, glancing from time to time at Arno. This was the first time he saw her like that. What did the guy do to her?! His sister wasn't his sister anymore. She was someone else. He couldn't see her as the Master Assassin without pity anymore. Now, deep inside, there was a normal woman falling for a far-too-attractive man just in front of her. And she had known him for ten hours at most.

"Nothing. Jacob here was just leaving, and so were you."

Said Jacob would beat him someday for saying that, because he knew his sister and something just broke inside of her when hearing the end of this. He pushed her gently so she got out first, and watched a last time, long enough to see the other Assassin sit on the chair in the room. And he heard him curse through the walls.

"Damn woman."


	5. Forgiveness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is too big. I wrote too much Arno and not enough Jacob. I'll have to try and change that in the chapters to come D:  
> I feel like there's not enough happening in each chapter. What do you think?  
> I hope you still like it though :)
> 
> Characters belong to Ubisoft.

"You went to talk to Arno. It wasn't your business!"

Jacob sighed. It was early in the morning, and the last thing he needed right now was his sister yelling at him for a crime he didn't commit. She woke up looking like she'd been brought back from the dead, and he had had the good idea of asking her if she was all right. Of course she wasn't. How could she be, with all the happened the day before. But he wanted her to confess. Just to see if she could open her mind to him, knowing full well she would never tell him the reason her night had been so bad. Although, deep inside, he had his answer already.

Knowing by heart his sister and the way she acted in the all-day-life, the Rook had asked her a second question. He still wondered what he did wrong. Because the fire in her eyes screamed it was his fault. And now he had his response, considering she spat the reason in his face. This wasn't going to be funny. He took a sit before even considering to talk.

"Come on, Evie. You and I both know I saved your life. You never would have gone to see the brat."

"And what exactly did you tell him that was so important?!"

"I asked him to forgive you. Though I might punch him for what he said before we left."

He didn't bring the 'damn woman' thing in the conversation. He was still working on what-the-hell-did-that-mean.

Shock took place in her eyes. Anger disappeared suddenly. She didn't fully trust him, but it was a start. A little longer, and perhaps he would have seen gratitude in her gaze. But as she opened her mouth, probably to answer something, Evie froze, looking away. He saw her starting to get nervous. Jacob didn't have to turn to know who just entered the room. He didn't need to. And he wasn't going to get involved in anything today. Leave alone this weird relationship his twin started to have with the ultimate stranger who broke her heart several hours ago.

He lowered his head and listened to what was happening. Surely, that's the only thing he could do. There was no way the Englishman was going to meet Frenchie's murderous eyes today. He had business with the gang, and his sister was doing the staring enough for both of them. He stayed still until he heard the Grandmaster talk (what, he was here too?).

"Arno. I trust you slept well?"

This surprised Jacob. He slowly turned despite what he decided earlier, and saw Loverboy who seemed totally fresh. How the hell did he do that? Either he didn't have any remorse whatsoever about last night, or he had a secret. The man was staring at Evie, as well, and it was like a fight where none of them wanted to lower their gaze in fear of losing the game. Arno turned his head slightly to watch him, then decided apparently to answer the question. But if he had a good night of sleep, he wasn't any less in a bad mood.

"I need a map of London. Surely, you have that, right?"

"Yes. Yes, we do. Are you planning on going to search for your man now?"

"The sooner the better. I'll make all this quick."

"Do you even have a plan? Surely you need one if you hope not to die."

"My mentor once said to me he'd see Paris burn to save the Brotherhood. I'd personally give my life for it. I'll make the plan once I know the situation. The map."

The Grandmaster cleared his throat. Well that was something. The guy basically said he was ready to be killed to do this mission. That was no usual behaviour. You wouldn't see anyone in England say that. Surely the French Brotherhood was different. They were the Creed in all ways. Or was it just some of them?

"What do you want to see on the map?"

"The headquarters, first. Then I want the position of every single gang in the city. No matter the size."

He was handed a piece of paper big enough to be of use and small enough to be hidden in his coat. Then with a last gesture that was probably meant to say 'thank you', the Frenchman put his hood on and disappeared in the streets of London. Jacob glared once again at his sister, watching her follow the man with her eyes, and sighed for the second time in five minutes.

"Damn it, Evie, go after him!"

* * *

"So few?"

Arno had been running on the rooftops for some time now, and he just took time at moments to see where he was heading. Now he was where he wanted to be; the very centre of the city. Or, at least, almost. He was now standing on the top of a high building, watching London wake up down there, map in his hands. All he asked for was written on the map. The headquarters were a big Assassin symbol, and the gangs were represented by big circles indicating their size. He saw six of them. That was the ones they knew existed for now. The seventh was smaller, and by its location he assumed it was the Rooks. Yeah. Always helpful. Of course he put it on the paper.

He watched carefully the size and location of all the gangs. Some were bigger than the rest, and they were all organized so they didn't clash. Templars. Everything always needed to be perfect with them. He decided to start by the smaller. Always start by the less dangerous, who knew.

The blue-coated Assassin went in the direction put on the map and soon arrived in a place he instantly knew was what he searched for. There were men everywhere, all dress the same, and now and then he could see a blue flag with a difficult-to-see symbol on it. Yeah. He had seen the Rooks' one, which was green? Probably. 

Passing into his stealth-mode, he stayed on the rooftops. It was still the safer, for him at least. As it was a small gang, there was a single person standing watch where he was. He wasn't allowed to take risks. Sneaking behind him, Arno decided to kill him directly. The hidden blade found its way to the man's throat and he could now observe how the gangs functioned. Basically the boss was walking everywhere, training his recruits a little and giving orders, but nothing happened in this one. And his target was nowhere in sight. It would have been too easy.

The Frenchman repeated the same process for the next gang. This one wasn't the bigger, but it was indeed very different. He once again killed the men on the roofs, because there were more than one, and observed. They fought and made plans, he could see it. They also took hostages and the boss was harsh. Now this was more what he imagined in the first place. Most of the members of the gangs were in little groups, talking about whatever they needed to do.

Before he could observe more, Arno felt a presence behind him. Reaching for a pistol, he turned quickly to face the opponent. What a surprise, to see Evie in front of him, arms up, watching him with her look a mix of fear, guilt and exhaustion.

"I could have killed you, Evie. What were you thinking?!"

He saw her take a deep breath while lowering his weapon, and stared at her with less anger than he wanted. She seemed almost destroyed. Mostly because she seemed to have had the worst night of her life.

"I wanted to apologize. I'm sorry, Arno. I'm sorry I did nothing."

He stood silent and watched her. He didn't have to search to see she was sincere. He gave her a small smile that lasted a second.

"I forgive you. Doesn't mean I'm willing to trust you again, you know that."

And she nodded, closing her eyes. He didn't want to hurt her. He really didn't. He couldn't. But before he could say anything, she turned back and ran away. He found himself alone, in a gang zone, a pistol in his hand, watching her going who-knows-where. What he wanted to say became a whisper.

"And I'm sorry too."

* * *

"Alright, back to work lads!"

Jacob licked his lips and watched his gang. What he needed right now was more men. The Rooks were too few for his liking, and even though he trained them well, he wasn't going to take back the city like that. Sure, they were probably the most skilled guys in all of London, but he needed more. They had to attack a gang soon. Plus, his men were like impatient horses, he knew they watched him every time waiting for him to plan an attack. He had information. They provided it, and he wasn't blind, he knew there was a meaning. The man who told him about the ready-to-be-attacked gang last time was a great fighter, no doubt he just wanted to go and punch some faces.

He was at the verge of telling them they were going, when he heard a light landing on the ground behind him. His sister was there, looking like she saw a ghost, or at least something scary. (he wasn't even sure a freaking ghost would frighten the great Evie Frye) Raising his eyebrows, he approached her carefully. Now he was acting like she was supposed to act with him. She always was the big sister, the older one, wiser and always there to tell him what he was doing wrong. She took care of him. Now the roles were reversed. 

"Sis? You okay?"

She looked at him. No, she wasn't. Once again, the question was stupid. He really was the biggest idiot in the galaxy. He took a deep breath, looked at her one last time and decided it was enough.

"OK, what did he do to you? I swear I'm gonna kill him. Just say the word."

"He forgave me."

"I'll ki... Wait, what did you say?"

"He forgave me. And then he said he couldn't trust me anymore."

That's the moment the Rook didn't know what to answer. His sister was too strong to cry. She would _never_ show any tear. Even in moments of weakness, her face was always dry. If she were a normal woman, she would probably be sobbing at the moment. And then came something that last happened when they were children. They hugged. Who started it, it would stay a mystery, but she was in his arms and he was keeping her in them. No matter what happened, they stayed siblings, right? They loved each other, even if they never said it out loud.

"Jacob, what is happening to me?"

Can't tell, sis. Can't tell. He sighed and broke the hug harder than he had expected. He watched her, then watched around him. Nobody in sight. He didn't know if he should explain to her the way feelings worked, because he thought she probably already knew, but it all seemed like nothing like that ever happened to her. Maybe it was really a first. Damn.

"Look, I don't know, but what you need right now is..."

He stopped in the middle of the sentence because he had the bad idea of looking behind his sister. His eyes widened and he knew Evie understood as she started to go.

"How did you get past my men?!"

* * *

"Fourth one."

Arno had been searching. Alone. Map still in hands. He had watched every single man he could see, with or without Eagle vision. And it was starting to be really tiring. This one gang was huge. He had to kill eight guys to secure the rooftops, and even now some remained. There we quite a lot of people here. He tried to remember the description they gave to him for the ex-Assassin he was searching for. The man was apparently built the same way Arno was. He wasn't the most muscular but he knew how to fight and kill with efficiency. He proved it more than one time in France. He was supposed to have a scar on his left cheek and thick brown hair; only from this distance Arno would see close to nothing. He had to rely on something else.

What exactly did he know about the guy, except that he was a traitor and needed to pay for this? Not much. But something told him this was the gang he was searching for. He switched to his Eagle senses and started to concentrate.

View, first. Men everywhere. All in red. Some he saw in blue, but that was some civilians. The gang's flag, like those he had seen for the others. Two shades of red and a hand holding a knife. Right.

Hearing, then. He could distinctly hear several conversation at the same time. A small group was talking about a women they called "Bloody Nora" and who seemed to be the boss; some others were talking about beating a man to death. Nice. On the right, he heard a weird accent. Approaching slowly, he listened more carefully. His eyes widened. This was definitely a Latin accent. French. He found him.

Arno lowered his gaze, looking at the group. There was his man. He could kill him right now. Just jump on him. But he didn't have the time. A woman with mid-short brown hair, wearing black robes, appeared. That was probably Nora. Too late, then.  
The Frenchman ran away. There was nothing left to do. He missed his chance. Now, he had only one solution left: use the Rooks. This was going to be hard. 

To be honest, the place the Rooks were occupying was not guarded well. He found a small alley and sneaked in to arrive in front of Jacob after a little search. He found him hugging his sister. Cute. He showed himself when the man broke said hug, and he saw him start to say something but stop. Ah. He was detected.

_"How did you get past my men?!"_

"I sneaked in. You might want to rearrange the way you guard your place."

And then he saw her. Evie was looking bad, and starting to get away. He didn't want her to. She ran in the morning. He didn't want her to run now. He wanted to apologize. To reassure her. To do something. But he couldn't. She mumble something like _I'll just go_ to her brother, and he just had the time to make a step and open his mouth before she disappeared in the city. He was kind of feeling bad.

He looked back at Jacob, seeing as the Englishman was watching him with a deadly look. Not good? Not good.

"If you came here to break her heart even more, I promise I'll punch you until there is no more skin on your face."

"I didn't... What?"

Did he? Did he break her heart? He had no idea. Why didn't she tell him? Or anyone? He couldn't just guess something like that. He took a deep breath and decided to talk about that later.

"Jacob, I need that favor from yesterday. I really need it."

"And what's this favor of yours, Arno? What makes you think I'll say yes?"

"Because it involves attacking another gang. Because you need men. Because your Brotherhood is falling apart and taking back this part of London would be good. Because the sooner I finish this mission, the sooner I can get back to my country and leave your sister alone."

That was all the Frenchman had to say. The last one was the Joker. If that didn't convince him, nothing would do it. He saw the other Assassin thinking about what he said. He was doubting. In a way, that was good news. He decided to wait until an answer came.

"What gang?"

"I don't know. I saw the flag, though. Red, two different shades, and a... white? hand holding a knife. The boss is a woman."

Jacob's surprise could be funny if they weren't talking about beating enemies, or more specifically, Templars. Again. Not good.

"You want me to attack the fucking _Blighters_?"


	6. Mistrust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I did say they wouldn't come as fast as 1 and 2. Sorry for the delay!  
> The next one will probably take as much time to come, unfortunately.  
> Hope you enjoy :)
> 
> Characters belong to Ubisoft.

"This is out of the question."

Jacob growled. They'd been trying for hours to get the Grandmaster to give his blessing to the plan. Telling him had probably been their biggest mistake. And it wasn't his fault. It had been quick. After the shock, Jacob had given his permission to Arno. They would fight. His Rooks would be happy and, as the Frenchman said, it would profit him in a lot of ways. More men. More control. Bloody Nora was well known and it wouldn't be easy. But he had faith.

The main problem had been the _Now we have to tell your Grandmaster_. Yes, but no. He knew he wouldn't agree. The gang thing he already found stupid. And reckless. And all sorts of things like that. So, involve it in another's mission? Duh.

"C'mon Henry. It was already hard enough for me to accept to work with the brat."

He didn't have to turn his head, he knew damn well Loverboy was watching him with a deadly look. He could feel it.

"I would have done that anyway, one day. You know it."

"But not in this condition. And not with so few men! I won't risk one of my best Assassins for a mission that's not even ours. No offense, Arno."

Knowing the other guy, Jacob thought he was going to say something, like 'none taken' or whatever. But he didn't. The blue-coated Assassin stood straight, arms crossed, and silent. If he understood correctly, the Englishman knew there was no other actual plan. Except go in there and sacrifice himself, there was no other way to achieve the bloody mission.

Then again, he did say he was ready to die for his cause, right? The Grandmaster apparently remembered that too.

"Didn't you have an opportunity there? When you saw him?"

"I did. I was just above him. I could've jumped on the guy."

What? He didn't say that to him. This wasn't fair. He didn't even try, or what?

"If, of course, you forget the arrival of the boss. Or the dozens of other men around him, who would have either killed me or tortured me in order to know how to destroy what's left of your Brotherhood. Sorry I didn't take the risk."

Ow. That hurt. That definitely hurt. This was a pretty good argument, if he had to say. Still; it probably wouldn't change anything. In a way, Jacob would be happy to see Arno having trouble with his mission. In another way, it meant he would not attack the Blighters right now. Plus, his sister would be furious. And he'd been pretty excited since the other Assassin asked for this kind of favor. It would be a shame to cancel the raid.

"I'm sorry. I still don't agree."

Jacob saw the Frenchman grumble and walk away, not without making it clear this decision didn't please him in any way. He watched him disappear in the dorms, and took a bit of time to think. Damn, why was Henry so blind? It wasn't an opportunity you had twice. The other was at least a bit skilled. He could use this help. He could abandon anything, now, or go and find the man again and tell him to do it, with or without the Grandmaster's consent. He was rooting for the second one. _Fuck him_. Why the hell did they ask, anyway? They weren't children anymore. He headed for the dorms.

"...Fuck it all."

* * *

"...Evie."

It was like everybody left the dorms. Not a single person to be seen, except her. She was standing in the corridor, her back glued to the wall. Her eyes were closed, and he saw her shiver when she heard him. Arno didn't know what to do or say. He just stood there awkwardly, trying to find something worth doing. He bit his lower lip and tried to take her arm so she wouldn't go away while he'd try to talk to her. But she avoided him, and he abandoned. He sighed.

"Did I really... Break your heart?"

The question was as sincere as it could possibly be. She looked at him with puppy eyes, and he realized he just couldn't resist her. It really was an impossible task. Perhaps she knew it, and did all of this on purpose? It didn't looked like so.

"My heart can't be broken."

"Your brother seems to disagree with this statement."

And now she was angry. He could see it in the way she glared at him. Did he do anything? He didn't. He was innocent, right? Perhaps she was because Jacob managed to get involved in every single thing she was doing lately. He didn't know how it was usually, but Arno suspected it was different. So she had every reason not to like that. The Englishman wasn't coming yet, if he ever was to come, but it was likely he would appear one moment or another. So Arno decided if he was going to apologize, now was the time.

"Look, Evie, I'm sorry. I didn't want to be so harsh. I realize now I might have reacted a bit too much."

"...I forgive you."

Well, good news. Now that this was settled, they could continue all the business.

"...Doesn't mean I'm willing to trust you again."

This one he didn't expect. She smiled seeing his confusion. So she wasn't _that_ mad or sad. It was kind of a relief. He couldn't bear seeing her in a bad mood.

He didn't have time to think about it, for Jacob, as expected, appeared on the other side of the corridor. So, he decided to follow. That probably meant they were back to business. Good. The Rook watched Arno with suspicion; his gaze switched to Evie, who smiled a little, and then back to the Frenchman. He seemed angry and confused at the same time (and this was a strange mix, really), because a few hours ago his sister was still broken in pieces. Now... Well, he could see she wasn't anymore. And finally he understood what happened. His eyes became slightly bigger and he glared furiously at his twin.

"What, you forgave him?!"

"I believe I did, yes."

"Are you kidding me? Three hours ago you were almost _crying_ in my arms, and now you forgive him. Please tell me I'm hallucinating."

"You're not, Jacob."

" _Please_ , Evie. You barely know him. You can't let his actions go away. Don't tell me you're feeling something for him after what he did. You're not like that."

"Well, I guess you don't know everything about me yet."

With that, she grabbed Arno's red scarf and, abruptly pulling him towards her, she kissed him hard on the lips. All in front of Jacob, who watched them with great disbelief, until she let go of the other Assassin.

With that she turned on her heel and walked away, leaving both men slightly dumbstruck. Arno swallowed hardly, waiting for the Englishman's reaction: but unfortunately, he couldn't hide the grin that covered his whole face. He now knew he was waiting for this since he arrived in this country and saw her. The brother turned to look back at him with a bit of disgust. He didn't like that, did he? He hated him even more, it was obvious.

"Whatever the plan is, she won't be in it. Understood?"

This caused Arno's smirk to get even bigger. But now he didn't know what he preferred: embarrassing Jacob, or kissing Evie. He chuckled. 

"Sorry, man. But I need her."

* * *

"There is no way we're doing this."

The other man sighed. They were in Arno's chamber, working on the damn plan. Jacob was paying more attention to this than he ever did to anything, but he was still mad at what happened earlier. It kept fighting with his mind. And it was exactly what she wanted, wasn't it? So she kissed her Loverboy. Well, at least now the guy deserved his nickname. But what did he mean by _I need her_? Oh sure, I'll leave you both alone in a bedroom while I kick asses for you. No worries, I give you all my blessings, may you be happy together. Was there even a relationship?  
And now the man wanted to let him handle the whole gang, so Evie and him could sneak in and find the target easily. Of course.

"What's the matter now?"

"You help us. I want you fighting with the Rooks. I'm not letting you escape."

"...Fine. We all come by the front door, I help you all a bit and then I sneak in with your sister to find my man, while you handle the rest."

"Better. But you'll need to wear the same clothes as us."

"Right. Keep dreaming, Jake."

This time he couldn't resist longer. Jacob threw his fist before him, aiming for Arno's face. Said Assassin barely had the time to dodge, escaping the punch, before getting a warning look. Jake was not something you called him. Especially when you were a stupid stranger who almost claimed his sister.

"I'll come from the rooftops. That way I can take care of the men up there for you and your gang. And I come back to help you on the ground."

"I don't trust you."

"Me neither. But you're the closest I have to an ally right now. Do we have a deal?"

He had a point. They both had interest in this. And if there was no trust, they could just think about the end of this and the benefits.

"Deal. I'll prepare the Rooks. Tomorrow?"

He knew damn well the other was going to search for his sister, and he didn't want to be involved in any way. So he would just go and tell the good news to his men. Hopefully, they would not freak out.

"Tomorrow."

* * *

"Do you know where she went?"

Negative answer. Jacob was already gone, the headquarters were almost empty and the Grandmaster knew absolutely nothing. How was he supposed to find Evie now? He needed to see her. So what, she just teased him like that? He needed to know the meaning of this. He, himself, didn't have an exact idea of what he was feeling. Reason why he didn't say a word after that, didn't try to stop her, or anything. It wasn't because of the plan. It was shock. He just wasn't ready for that.

And now she was somewhere in London, and if he ever wanted to find her, he would have to search the whole city. Great. With a little luck, she would find him first. He sighed (for the who-knows-how-many time), put his hood on and got out. He climbed the roofs, once again, and managed to find some good points of view to observe the town. Luck didn't seem to like him; he didn't manage to find anyone.

As he was walking on one of the many ( _many_ ) roofs, he heard quick footsteps behind him and was suddenly tackled. He thought he was done and captured, until his attacker showed ~~his~~ her face. Evie was sitting on him, holding him on the ground (well, not the ground, but), looking at him with a bright smile. In other circumstances, he would find her beautiful, but he wasn't comfortable enough. Because she was sitting on him. Like he was a couch.

"Looking for me? You're not really paying attention to your surroundings, sir."

"Yeah, I know. Can I stand up, please?"

She didn't move. Not an inch. She continued to look him in the eyes, and finally decided it was awkward enough. She stood up and gave him a hand, helping him to get up. The silence last a few seconds before he decided to talk.

"Was it just to piss him off?"

She knew what he was talking about. He knew she understood what he meant. He wanted to know, et she was obviously wondering if he was worth an answer. Not good. Perhaps he would never know. Perhaps she didn't feel anything and it was totally just to send a message to her brother. In that case, he would just nod and leave, right? There was nothing else to do. Just listen and react.

She smiled and casually gave him a response, the sun shining on her black hood.

"No. I wanted to do it. Figured this was a good opportunity. Hopefully you liked it?"

He nodded. He thought she was going to say yes and he was ready to leave. But she said no. So she wanted it. Like him. Now he didn't know what to do. So he just said the truth.

"You have no idea how much I did."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who saw it...  
> I'M SORRY FOR THE STAR WARS REFERENCE  
> But I decided to put it in here before I even wrote the first chapter :D


	7. Ass-kicking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY I DON'T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED  
> I just didn't know what to write anymore, I was stuck I can't even explain it to you. The last comment from flabSC just triggered my inner writer like "I started this it is my duty to finish it".  
> The main thing is after 1 year of waiting I can finally play AC Unity for the first time and I'm enjoying myself as hell so I spent the last 3 days playing. The only thing I did today was writing (and being distracted by tumblr) because I love you people. Also I'm struggling because I don't know if I want this story to end sadly, really sadly, or extremely sadly. (no I'm not a monster hehe)  
> So here it is, as I promised myself I wouldn't sleep until it was done and posted, it is 2am here and there are probably a hell lot of errors in it. I'll correct everything when I wake up, promised.
> 
> Anyway. Because I want you all to forgive me for the lateness, this is the longest chapter of the whole fic. Sorry for the end, it's so cliché I know. I hope you'll still enjoy it.
> 
> Characters belong to Ubisoft.

"So you are going to leave us soon."

They were still on the same place, looking at the horizon, standing at the exact same spot. They'd been silent for a few minutes before Evie started a new conversation. This one Arno didn't want to have. He didn't want to talk about how he would have to go and leave them, how everything would soon be over. He didn't want to come here in the first place, but now he had had the good idea of growing fond of someone in this bloody country. He wanted to go back to France, sure, but he knew he'd miss Evie. And he encountered her for the first time not even two days ago. Oh how that went fast.

He looked at her, not knowing what to answer, struggling with finding a response. The light in her eyes showed understanding, and she offered him a small smile to tell him he didn't have to talk. The Frenchman really wanted to say something, but his words were broken. What could he say? _Yes, it was nice to meet you though_. Nope. There was more he would want to tell her, because "nice" wasn't exactly what he thought when thinking about their meeting.

For some reason, she started to chuckle lightly when seeing his real lack of answer.

"You had to bring that out." 

She smiled and turned to face him, clearly enjoying the situation.

"I like seeing you silent. You become a mystery."

"Oh what, because otherwise I'm an open book?"

"Damn right you are. You're really easy to read, Mr Dorian, at least for me."  
"Right. Then what is my opinion about you?"

Apparently she wasn't prepared for this question. She froze for a second, looked down and took a step back. When she looked up again, her gaze was determined and she took a deep breath.

"I think the answer is: the same I have about you. You had a good feeling from the first time you saw me. You knew I would be an interesting character. You wanted to know more about me. The get-to-know-London trip with me was a good idea. You didn't like being angry with me and that's why we reconciliated so quickly. You don't like how Jacob is because he figures he can decide everything that is happening in my life lately." 

As she was talking, apparently without noticing she was actually describing herself more than describing him, he took one step towards her. Unconsciously, she stepped backwards again. It continued until she hit a wall from a building higher than the one they were on. Eventually, he found himself looking down at her, hands resting on the wall at their respective sides, while she looked up to find his eyes. They were close. Really close. So close they could feel each other's breath on their cheeks. She instantly stopped talking and straightened her back.

As close as they were, both of them were uncomfortable. Eve was wondering if she had to stay here and wait for something to happen, or do something, or flee, or even say something so they'd stop this. Arno was wondering what the hell happened to him and why he just did that, even if he liked the idea in the first place. He closed his eyes, bit his lower lip and slowly lowered his arms. Evie seemed to relax, and both Assassins gave each other an understanding look. The sun was starting to disappear. They would just need to forget what happened here. They both knew it was impossible.

"Yeah. Let's head back to the HQ."

* * *

"Everyone c'mere!"

Jacob stood in the middle of his place, eagerly waiting for his men to gather round. He was full of hope. He wanted them to like what he was going to say. Some would probably want to leave, although he wouldn't let them escape. The threat of someone revealing his plans couldn't be taken. You flee, you die. As simple as that. Hopefully they would understand directly.

He watched as the Rooks silently came to look at him, light in their eyes wondering what the hell was going on, why their boss suddenly wanted to see them all. Once he was sure they were all here, he put his hands on his hips after clearing his throat, and started walking from left to right.

"Alright, lads. I have good news and not-so-good news." He looked around, hearing some of his guys whispering, and glared at them until they stopped. Only then he continued. "Good news is, tomorrow, we are going to fight another gang."

He smiled when almost all of them showed how glad they were to finally, _finally_ do something interesting. But if most of them didn't even care about the details, some others, intelligent enough, remained silent, suspicious, and full of questions. One in particular managed to ask the important one, his voice higher than all the noise around him. Everything stopped when he asked it.

"Which one, boss?"

"Good question, mate. That's the not-so-good part. We're going to attack the Blighters."

And there it was. The clamour when they all heard the last part. They started to discuss, no, argue over this revelation. The Assassin could even hear some words in the brouhahah. Things like _Bloody Nora_ , _Snipers everywhere_ , _Lots of men_ , _Never gonna make it_ , and other comments like that. He rolled his eyes. At least they didn't _really_ freak out. Better than nothing.

" _ENOUGH!_ " Everyone suddenly stopped, like frozen, and looked at him. He started to talk again, this time walking between them, their gaze following his movements. "I know what you're thinking. I heard what you just said. Yes, it is going to be difficult. Yes, the chances we make it are not that big. But there is some sort of a plan, and there is help. You all know my sister, of course. She will be there. And remember the guy who almost knocked out Roy yesterday?" Angry looks and noises came from those who saw it all. "Yeah, I know, don't like him either. But he's the one who got me into this, and he's a skilled Assassin; we need him. You talked about snipers, he's gonna take care of them before helping us on the ground for a while."

As he could see in their eyes, there were those who believed him because they were faithful to the boss, and those who weren't so sure. It was time for the last instructions. He came back to where he was before it all started.

"Now. We are going to attack them. We will succeed. And because we are doing this, nobody except us needs to know. So, anyone who tries to leave..." He took out a pistol and shot, without even a single remorse, a guy he saw trying to sneak out on his right. His arm remained in the air. "...will be killed on sight."

Fear was one of the best triggers in the world to make someone talk or obey. He'd learned that as soon as he joined the Brotherhood. And it was his last chance at being respected today. Apparently, it worked. They all nodded at the same time. He lowered his arm, slowly, and put back his pistol he it belonged. He looked at the sky, night would fall soon enough. _Already?_ It was time to dismiss them from the meeting. They all needed rest.

"You're all skilled. We can, and we _will_ defeat them. Now go."

**The next day**

"Morning people!"

Jacob just entered the headquarters, finding Evie and Arno already there. The Frenchman didn't sleep a lot, and he didn't know about Evie, but her brother sure seemed happy and fresh. He was almost smiling when he saw them, which made him approach.

Arno stood up, determined to do it. This was what he'd been waiting for since he arrived. The big moment. Hopefully his man still had all the informations with him and he would be able to take them back and go home. Not that he wanted to leave _that bad_ , but he would need to do so anyway. He looked at Evie for a second, then at Jacob. They both nodded. It was time. As they already discussed, Jacob would go and let them take care of the first problems. Stealth first, then the real fight. 

"Everything good?"

"The men are already waiting outside. Let's go."

After what happened the last time all three of them were with the Rooks, the blue-coated Assassin had to admit: he was a little nervous. And he was right to be. Coming out of the headquarters, they went to check the place where the whole gang was waiting. No need to describe the murderous look some of the men shot Arno. He could walk closer, they would for sure spit in his face. Whatever. He didn't really care, actually, as he wasn't in charge and only needed to do what was needed. He had a mission. Whatever they could think, the Rooks didn't scare him in any possible way. Evie and Jacob seemed to notice how the mood turned at Arno's arrival. She was the one to talk.

"Hey that's not the moment. You can kill him later but for now keep you anger to yourselves."

 _She's joking, right?_ She didn't look like she was joking, but she probably was. Because he couldn't find a reason for her accepting his death. Especially by the hands of her own men. Said people turned their gaze to look at her, no more murder in their eyes. She was the other boss. She needed to be respected. And she was.

Satisfied with everything, she turned to face Arno. With just the eyes they understood each other, and with a hand sign to Jacob, they climbed up the wall to get to the rooftops. They didn't waste a second and started to run in the direction of their target. They stayed silent, only interrupting their running to make some hands or arms movements, all in order to point the way they needed to take. At some point, being really close, they stopped running and walked instead. Using their Eagle Vision, they scanned the area. The snipers were basically fewer than expected, or at least there were less of them than last time. It was strange, even suspicious.

As they approached, they heard a woman talking pretty loud; probably Bloody Nora. So the boss was here. Jacob would be happy to kill her, that was for sure.  
Although they would have loved to talk, Arno and Evie needed to stay silent, for the sake of stealth. They didn't need to create a way to communicate, though. Some gestures were enough to be understood by the other. They just needed to say _I take this one_ or maybe _You take this one_ , but especially both at the same time. Following the same pattern, they finally eliminated all the targets quietly, without being seen or heard, in good team work.

But they needed to do one last thing. Heading for the closer building to where the Rooks were waiting, Arno loaded his phantom blade and fired at the green wooden wall in front of him. From where they stayed, kneeling, they caught sight of Jacob, who saw the quieter signal they found. They waited for him to initiate the fight, and could finally talk. Arno turned to look at Evie, and smirked.

"After you, m'lady."

* * *

"Time to go!"

The signal wasn't that good. They all knew it. The first idea was a pistol shot in the air, but they immediately decided the noise wasn't a good idea. They needed the surprise. Loverboy's mini-crossbow was really good for this, because it was little and silent. Nobody heard it, but it still was a sign.

Jacob was hiding with the gang, not seeing anything about what happened up there. Maybe his sister and her favourite Frenchie were dead. Maybe. Even if it wasn't at all realistic. At all. It's when a little blade came whistle in the wooden wall on his left that he understood they were bloody well alive, and saw them on the roof. 

Looking at his gang, he ordered them to stay where they were. Why surprise the Blighters without entering with style? He glued a grin on his face and, adjusting his top hat, started walking, heading for the front door. Always style. Once there, he saw Bloody Nora standing straight, barking stupid orders, and stopped. He stood there until one of her men told her to look behind. When the woman saw him, she didn't seem as surprised as expected. The Assassin wanted to be disappointed, but he wasn't. He knew why she had this reaction: she was certain to win. _Well, not today, dearie_. She didn't bother asking for her gang to help her face him, but he did. Raising his arm, he motioned for his men to come, quietly, not moving an inch from where he stood. Pity he had to watch the Blighters' boss, his entrance was probably badass as hell. He would ask Evie later.

Nora sent some of her men to encounter the Rooks (oh-how-good-of-her). Now _that_ was disappointing. Man, couldn't she come herself?

"What do you want, Frye?"

Jacob didn't answer. Instead he cracked his neck and waited for the first of her dogs to come; he answered only after hitting his face with his brass knuckles, in a way even his own mother wouldn't recognize him.

"...I'm here to kick your ass."

And the battle began. As her men were still gathering, the Rooks clearly took advantage in the first minutes. Fists were flying everywhere. As it turns out, they were not as outnumbered as they previously thought. There were something like four or five Blighters for one Rook, maybe more for some of them.

The only person who didn't fight was Bloody Nora herself. If Jacob was in the heart of the battle, fighting guys twice as big as himself, she was standing on a random carriage looking quite satisfied. He knew what she thought. He knew she saw no chance for him to win at this very moment. She didn't know he still had some really good back-up somewhere. Speaking of them, where the bloody hell were Evie and Arno? Just as he was wondering, two shadows appeared on the ground and he caught a glimpse of black and red, immediately followed by deep blue, jumping from the rooftops to land on enemies. About damn time.

He dodged as a punch came in front of him, ducked when a knife came in his direction. He grabbed the hand holding said weapon and returned the favour, sticking it (still hold by its owner) in the man's left thigh.

He had given firm instructions: no killing, or at least, few killing. Harming, at the very most. One of the reasons he did that was to have more men. The more Blighters survived, the more Rooks he would have in the end. It had been really hard to make Arno accept that (like, really, the guy _loved_ his hidden blade more than anything. and he was really skilled with it, actually.) but in the end he managed to make a deal. Wasn't difficult since without him, the Frenchman couldn't do anything and so had to accept the conditions. The only one who needed to die was Nora.  
He threw punches all over the place while watching his surroundings. His men were globally doing a great job, and a lot of bodies now covered the street. Evie was hitting everything around her with her cane and Arno was taking them by pairs to knock one out with the other. Both were quite efficient. But all of this was insignificant for now. He needed a plan, quickly. He could either knock all of the Blighters and force Bloody Nora to surrender, or kill her right here and right now to end all this shit quickly.

The second one was honestly more tempting. Making his way between all the people fighting, he rushed for the place she was watching everything from. He did it rapidly, so she didn't have time to see him coming, and made her fall off her precious carriage. Now to cut the head of the snake. He approached her quietly, walking. She stood up again and took out a pistol. He grabbed her hand and twisted her arm. She cried in pain and let go of her weapon. He watched her one last time, put his hidden blade on her throat, made her face the crowd while still holding her. He whistled loudly, and, feeling most of the fighters watching him, killed Bloody Nora without remorse.

It didn't take long for the used-to-be-Blighters to surrender and offer their service (for most of them). Jacob accepted everything with a large smirk plastered on his face. In his head, a single thing was repeating itself. _Thinking I was worried we wouldn't make it_. Turns out he didn't know everything. He thought Nora would at least fight, or that she would be ready to attack anyone coming threatening her place as bigger gang in the city. The reality was, she was so confident she didn't even worry about all of this. And it was the only reason he won. He knew if she'd been prepared for any eventuality, he would be lost without anything left, or, even better, dead. He stopped thinking when his sister suddenly asked about something he didn't even bother thinking about.

"Where's Arno?!"


	8. Missed shot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man the third part of this was intense to write I don't even know why.
> 
> I suck at planning stories, so I spent an hour yesterday night talking with a friend about details for the next chapter(s). He's the only reason you have this, so if you really like this story (like flabSC seems to do), you can thank him. x)  
> Anyway here's Chapter 8. It kind of broke my heart a little, but I hope you enjoy it.  
> Hey, I forgot. But thank you all for the lovely comments and kudos. It means a lot :)
> 
> Characters belong to Ubisoft.

"Thank you, Sir."

That's what she said with a smirk. Arno waited for her to jump and instantly followed. Both of them landed on different men, and, standing up again, started to fight the Blighters. Arno saw Evie using her strange cane. It was really stylish, and there was apparently a blade, more precisely a sword hidden in it. But it wasn't that discreet, actually. Oh well. Arno wasn't using any sort of weapon. He didn't want to do some stupid error like hitting a guy too hard and/or killing him. Jacob had accepted to do this on one condition: nobody dies unless it's an accident or a necessity. He didn't agree at first: he was more efficient using weapons, especially hidden blades. But as he had no choice, if he ever wanted to finish his mission, he had to accept. So here he was, using his gloved fists to knock out people, because he was a man of his word.

He had no brass knuckles, like the Brits had, so he tried to use other techniques. The one that apparently worked best was to use one to beat another. He spotted a man who had his back on hum, grabbed his white shirt and threw him on a second one. It turned out to be good, except when the first one got back up. Arno quickly went to his side, took a third guy and threw both men's heads against the other's. 

From the corner of his eye, the blue-coated Assassin saw Jacob watching them before turning and looking at Arno's left. The Frenchman followed him with his eyes as he was heading... in Bloody Nora's direction. So now he wanted to go to the source. That surely was the best idea he's had all day. Dodging a punch directed at him, Arno saw, not so far on the left, a man rushing for safety inside of a house. His target? That was it. He abandoned everything and everyone, left the fight and ran in the man's direction. He passed behind Jacob as fast as an arrow, and soon he was opening the door. He did it silently, and closed it just as carefully.

Arno triggered Eagle Vision, not knowing if the other had it too. He found him, deep red in this blue world, apparently trying to escape by a window. He didn't waste a second and climbed up the stairs, jumping on the the man when he saw him. He tackled his target and they both ended on the ground, the Assassin on top of the new-Templar. Said Assassin murdered his used-to-be-brother with his eyes, but didn't kill him just yet. He put his hidden blade on his throat.

"What did you do with the information?"

The other smirked and chuckled, looking at his attacker with amused eyes.

"I'm _sorry_ , were you hoping for a confession?"

* * *

"I don't know where your boyfriend is, why don't you go and search. On your own, please."

Jacob rolled his eyes as he was talking. Why the hell should he care? He didn't care. He filled his part of the bargain. Loverboy filled his part of the bargain. They were good now, and the fate of the French Assassin was no more his problem. He probably saw his fucking target and chased the guy. Nothing to worry about. That's why he came, so why was she worried? He felt that she hadn't moved behind him, and turned to look at her. She seemed to hesitate. He sighed, and turned to his Rooks to ask if anyone had seen him go. Most of them apparently didn't. But some actually did. The Assassin motioned his sister to come.

"Yeah I saw the guy running away when ya went to kill Nora."

"Saw him too. He went this way." the Rook pointed on their left.

"Me I saw him enter the red house!"

Jacob turned to see if this was enough for Evie to go, but he didn't see anyone where she was two seconds ago. He saw her running in the house's direction and only thanked his men before going back to his business.

Evie stood before the door and hesitated for a moment. Maybe it was better to leave him with his target. She didn't like when people came during the talk with her dying targets, perhaps he didn't like it either? On the other hand, he was probably in trouble. He most likely wasn't, but there was always a chance, right? She opened the door carefully, listening to know if there was any fight in the house. The whole building was silent. Maybe they went outside, Arno chasing the other? She prepared to go back when she heard a voice. It was her Frenchman's. He didn't seem to be in trouble, in the contrary. She didn't want to interrupt him. Evie walked up and stopped when the voices became clear. The other was still alive. He was being asked questions about the information. She still didn't want to go inside. Instead, she didn't move and just listened. The blue-coated Assassin was the first to talk.

"Just talk. You can still go back alive."

"Oh _please_. You didn't see it, right? You wounded me with your tackle. Can't control your hidden blade?"

"You used to be my brother. I have no interest in killing you."

"For God's sake, Arno. So that's what Bellec meant when he talked about you being too kind. That'll lead you to your end, boy."

"Becoming a traitor isn't better."

"Traitor? I just saw the truth. The Templar know what they are doing and they will win."

"They won't."

"Oh Arno. You were raised by a Templar. Deep inside, you are one too."

"No. I'm an Assassin. I'll never change that."

"But you loved this De La Serre, right? He raised you until you were an adult. He was your real father. If they didn't kill him, you'd be a Templar right now, heir to the Grandmaster. The only reason you joined us was because you wanted revenge for his death. Even knowing who your real father was, you would be with the enemy. Maybe you are, even."

Evie's eyes widened. She knew she shouldn't believe everything coming from an Assassin-turned-Templar. But this man knew Arno far better than she did. He was probably right. She found herself believing what he said was real. Mouth slightly opened, she started to get out as quickly as possible. She tried to stay silent, but she just couldn't. They probably heard the noise. She didn't care.

She came out of the house and started to leave the place, walking as fast as possible.

Jacob saw his sister coming back from where she went, her face blank, her eyes big and sad, her gaze lost in the void. He suddenly started to worry. Not again. What did the bastard do this time? 

"Evie, you ok?"

She stopped, and before running to leave him, answered his question.

"He's a Templar. The other said he's a Templar deep inside."

* * *

"Friend of yours?"

They both heard a noise coming from outside the room, but inside the house. He'd deal with that later. The matter at hand now was the information. His mission. The reason he came in this country. He had to do this. But thus far, the only thing the other had managed to do was calling him Templar, reminding him of the death of both his fathers, and making trouble. Arno still didn't have any kind of knowledge about what the information became.

"Just tell me."

"Don't be stupid, Arno. I know about your visions. I took my precautions and won't tell you anything. Just kill me and be done with it."

He knew? So there was no other way. Perhaps he could find a thing or two that would help him find the information without a full confession. So he just needed to kill him? Deep inside he didn't want to. The man wasn't innocent, but he used to be one of his brothers. He used to believe in the Creed and help the other Assassins.

Then again, he was right. Arno was too kind. And surely one day he'd die because of it. But not today. He took a breath, unsheathed his hidden blade and raised his arm. He had the time to hear his victim chuckle and say _Bonne chance_ before he sunk his blade in the other's chest, where his heart was beating.

_Soon enough the world started to blur, and he found himself looking at some place else. This wasn't so long ago, maybe one day or two. The sun was just starting to shine. He saw the man walking in the streets of London, watching around to see if anybody followed him. In his hands were a big envelope and a small paper, nothing being written on the visible face. He was heading for a bar called the Seven Bells, and entered. The vision changed its place, and a man was waiting for him inside. Arno saw him give the envelope to the man._

_"Deliver it to the address on the paper. Don't stop on the route. Don't look at the paper until you are outside."_

_As he said, he prepared everything. Arno couldn't see what was written on the paper. He couldn't go back sooner to see the man write it. He was stuck._

His vision stopped brutally, making him come back into the real world. So this was all he had. The name of a bar and a guy who probably wasn't even there anymore. Well, it was his only lead. Might as well go and ask. He didn't care about blending anymore. He would walk in the street dressed as he was if needed. He closed the man's eyes, whispered _Repose en paix_ , and stood up slowly. The Frenchman then started to get out. He went down the stairs and opened the door.  
He didn't find what he expected. He thought he would be able to step outside, ask for the location of the Seven Bells, and go there.  
Instead, he found himself stepping outside, to find in front of him Jacob, backed by more than a dozen of his Rooks. His mind screamed _Danger_.

"Templar, eh?"

"What are you-"

"I knew there was something with you. I let you touch my sister. I let you drag me into this fight. I don't even know why you are still alive in front of me. What would keep me from killing you right now?"

The noise. The noise they heard in the house. Evie probably entered and believed the guy. So his mind was right. Danger. He was in danger now, and didn't know at the moment how to get out of it. He needed to think of something. He wasn't a big friend of Jacob, and that was enough to know the other wouldn't believe a word he said. Still, he could try.

"I'm not a fucking Templar, where did you get this idea-"

"And I'm not a bloody fool!"

Now he had a second. No, quarter of one. He saw Jacob reach for under his coat. The pistol. Everything went far too quickly. Arno's eyes widened, his pupils dilated, and he dodged the bullet as he could. He took a second quarter to analyse the possibilities. What could keep Jacob from shooting a second time? The Rooks. The blue-coated Assassin threw himself in the middle of the gang, and ran as quickly as possible out of the big place. He heard something like _Get him_. Oh come on. 

He had two choices now: escape, or take refuge in the Headquarters of the Brotherhood. But the second one was too risky. He had to flee. Go to the Seven Bells now. He had just the time to stop and think about what way he wanted to go before some of the Rooks appeared. He chose to go right and climb quickly a wall. 

"I'm already dead."

* * *

"I'm going to the HQ. You're in charge until I return."

The Rook nodded and watched him as he left the place. Jacob was angry. No, furious. It was just too much in one morning. Seriously, I was almost midday and already so much had happened. After the thrill of combat and all the good thing coming with his victory, everything had gone down. He didn't know what was worse. His sister coming back from the house where her Loverboy was supposed to kill someone, with a horrible face and the conviction the guy was a Templar. Or maybe how she left so quickly, leaving him there, mute. He couldn't do anything for her right now and he knew it, that's why he didn't follow her.

After this revelation, he had been waiting in front of the house's door, some of his men behind him for back-up. He didn't fully believed the guy to be a Templar, but he believed his sister. She was the voice of reason. He had full faith in her. The problem was that he tried to kill the man, knowing he could escape. The guy was trained and he knew it, so he sent his men to chase him. In the meantime, he had to check the headquarters to know where Evie had gone. He couldn't let her handle the shock alone.

He didn't walk there. He ran. He didn't even think about stealing a carriage. He knew the little streets and the quickest way to come back to the HQ. He found himself in front of the door, looking around for strangers, Evie or even Arno (although the guy needed balls to come here after almost being killed). He apparently cut a conversation between almost all the members of the Brotherhood. He had the time to hear _I knew there was something wrong with that guy_ before everyone went silent. He gave a quick look around. His sister wasn't here.

"Did _any of you_ see Evie?"

Everybody wanted to answer, but the Grandmaster was the first one to talk. He stood up and walked in the middle of the room.

"She came here ten or fifteen minutes ago. She told us what she learned about Mr Dorian. What happened exactly?"

"I don't know and I don't care. I tried to shoot him but he escaped. Some of my Rooks are after him."

"They won't find him. But anyway. I can't believe I'm the only one here to have doubts. We don't have any proof whatsoever and you all think he really is a Templar." He stopped everyone by raising his hand when they all tried to protest. "You aren't doing anything yet. I will send something or someone to the Brotherhood in France and ask for an explanation. Get back to work."

With a general growl, Jacob saw everyone split up and go different ways. He was still worried about his sister. She wasn't there and nobody told him anything. He looked at Henry, who understood instantly.

"She wanted an explanation, like me. She went to search for him alone. I respected her choice."

The Rook didn't say anything. She went to look for him. Right. And what if she found him? She would drag him all the way here? What if one of them had to die, and she didn't succeed in killing him? What if... What if he lost his twin? He couldn't let that happen. He had to do something. Anything. But as he was about to speak, they heard the door behind him open. A tired Evie, looking like she'd been resurrected from the dead, appeared before them. She honestly looked like hell. She looked at them, didn't even smile a bit, and talked, slowly.

"I know where he is going."


	9. Drunk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry!  
> I have all kinds of problems with my studies right now, so I wasn't really in a good mood for writing. And then when I finally got it (almost) done, my laptop charger decided to quit its job so I had no more battery. I'm posting it as quickly as possible right now because I will soon have nothing left (again).  
> Not really satisfied with the end but it'll do, I think. As I'm not sure all the french expressions have good translation on the internet (i didn't bother checking, too many lines), you'll find the meaning of each in the end note if you need it.  
> I hope you enjoy this chapter!
> 
> Characters belong to Ubisoft.

"Do you know where I can find the Seven Bells?"

It was dangerous to be in the streets talking to people. But he didn't care. Perhaps there were spies everywhere... Whatever. Arno was already dead, anyway. He knew itwas too late. He had different possibilities right now. He could get this mission done (which would be great, and was what he preferred) . He could flee, and go back to France empty-handed (not-a-possibility, in fact, because surely he would lose his rank and he'd rather die), or he could get caught. Well, surrender, actually. Hopefully they would give him a trial, or at least not kill him.

So now he was there, out in the open, stopping ignorant people to ask them about the bloody pub. Each second he passed in the street was a dangerous loss of time. He was easily recognisable with his navy coat and his hood. About ten persons he had stopped already, none of them being able to tell him something, even a hint about where he could go. He obviously mostly asked men, but it didn't make anything easier. Then finally, _finally_ , a tall guy with a dark jacket and a friendly smile (the kind you didn't see a lot in this city) told him he knew and gave him precise directions. The Frenchman thanked him and immediately started walking.

All in all, the Seven Bells was a bar like you could find everywhere. The City was so busy today it was barely visible. The windows showed lots of people drinking, laughing, telling stories, sitting on tables made of dark wood. Taking a deep breath, Arno entered and found a place far against a wall. He sat and pulled down his hood (which was now pretty useless, really), sighed and asked the bartender for a drink (because you-can't-stay-here-if-you-don't-take-something). He passed a hand on his face. His eyes were still closed when he heard the whisper in front of him.

"You're an Assassin aren't you?"

Arno opened his eyes and looked at the person who just talked. A little girl was sitting on the opposite chair. She apparently brought him his drink, judging from its apparition in front of him. He frowned, looked at her with her brown hair and freckles.

"I don't-"

"Know what I'm talking about. Hey don't worry, this is an Assassin-friendly place. You have the hood and the gauntlet. I'm Clara. What's your name? You're not from here, right? Where you from? Uh?"

 _Great_. So now, not only was he chased by the whole British Brotherhood, but he was stuck with an excited little girl who was going too fast for him with the whole bunch of questions. He took a second to look at her one more time. She was a child. 

She couldn't be a threat. She just couldn't. Even if she knew the Assassins. He blinked and decided to answer. Curiosity got him. So he whispered as well.

"...Ok, you're right, I'm an Assassin. Call me Arno. I'm from France."

She smiled when he talked, probably happy he didn't ask her to get the hell out. She seemed now a little nervous, or was it just excitement ? He would never know.

"That's great! So Arno, tell me things. You know the Brotherhood here? Do you know Jacob? I often talk to him. I give information to the Assassins when they offer to pay me. He and Evie, they come here a lot. And then Henry comes too and they talk about how Jacob always does stupid things. It's funny."

Now that was not really good news. "Yeah, I know them. Kind of. We're not really in good terms. How is it _you_ give information?"

"I'm just a little girl." She seemed offended. "Adults think I can't hear or understand them when they talk about important business. And they're wrong."

"...Then maybe you can help me."

"Yeah? Maybe I can."

Maybe she could. But it happened some days ago. What if she wasn't here? What if she didn't know anything? He would have to ask everyone. And 'everyone' would probably not be able to help him. He was alone again. He drank a bit and started to explain the whole thing.

"Right, so, one or two days ago a man came here. A french man, just like me. He gave a paper to some kind of messenger, told him to deliver it to an address on a second paper. But I don't know anything else. The other guy was tall, slim, had black hair and was dressed like a common gang member."

"That's not really helpful. I don't remember seeing something like that. I can try though, I know people. You know what, you seem desperate, I'll search, you drink."

And with that, as serious as a grown woman, she got out of the pub and he didn't see her disappear. She was right. He just had to wait and hope she would find something. It was his only lead, and he was bloody tired, so asking people wasn't really his first wish right now. He was going to drink. A lot. Hopefully he'd get drunk and wouldn't care about anything. He went to the bar.

"Hey, another please."

* * *

"What do you mean you know where he's going?"

Jacob was still angry. No, he was pissed. Because he was probably the only one in the room who wanted to kill the man as soon as possible, with his own hands. He was going to beat him until he could hear the guy cry for mercy, and then sink his blade into his chest.

Or maybe he was going a bit too far. His sister just entered, giving a lead without giving it. He looked at her, but he was the only one. Henry was already writing a letter for the French Brotherhood to ask for explanation. To hell with it. His only preoccupation now was to kill the guy they once thought was an Assassin. Everyone from the beginning knew. He should have known too. Evie should have known. But the guy threw himself between his Rooks. No matter who he was, Jacob couldn't possibly kill his men. 

"I mean I know where he's going. I saw him in the streets. He was in the open, asking people for directions."

"What, the streets? He really doesn't care anymore. So where's he going?"

"The Seven Bells." She continued to talk before he could respond or move. "Look, I've been thinking, maybe he is not a Templar. Perhaps I made a mistake. Arno was denying it. The man knew him long before we did, so I thought he was right. But now I'm not sure."

Jacob felt like he was going to burst into flames. "You're not sure. Evie. _I shot the guy for you_. I _almost_ killed him."

Shit. So now he said it. On the way here, he had promised himself he wasn't going to reveal that because it wasn't his job, but his sister fled from the place they just took because of him. And if Templar he was, the Assassin didn't regret any of his actions. Henry knew it already, but Evie looked at him with disbelief and asked with a high voice.

"You did _WHAT_?"

"...I shot him. The bastard managed to escape without a scratch. I believed you Evie, so I thought I'd deal with it."

Evie breathed loudly, and her brother prepared himself. Surely he was going to suffer her anger. Henry sighed and got back to his letter, which he was actually finishing. But she just killed him with her eyes (thank God) and started to walk around, talking about a plan. What plan? Just be done with him already. So now everybody was thinking with their brains. Henry just finished his letter and was re-reading it before he could send the message to Paris. Evie was talking out loud, just low enough for him not to understand everything. So what to do now? They could just go with some men to the Seven Bells, take him by surprise, bring him here and... No, take him by surprise and kill him directly. That would be possible, if he were the Grandmaster. But he wasn't. The actual one was the only person in the whole Brotherhood to not believe the story (that was before Evie came to say she wasn't sure anymore).  
Jacob growled in frustration, making it obvious it was becoming boring and he needed things to move. Finally, Evie talked.

"I'll go. Before you say anything, brother, I'll go alone. I'm the one who put him into this mess."

"What?! You're not going in there all by yourself."

That was just not an option. He would not let that happen. Never. He made the mistake to leave her sister with Loverboy once, he wouldn't do it a second time. He was going to come, and she would let him do it. No way he was letting her sister in danger with the guy. Then again, she was capable of handling herself. But she was always here to help and guide him. Why wouldn't he do the same for her now? Easy question: because she didn't want him to. She was the Master Assassin. 

"Stay in back-up if you want, I don't care. But you're not coming with me inside."

* * *

"And they said I could cook for'em. Look a'me mate, ya think a'can cook?"

All the men sitting at Arno's table laughed together. Him too. He didn't really listen to everything, but the guy apparently wanted to enter a gang and wasn't accepted anywhere (which was not a surprise, just looking at his body). It was something like his sixth drink. Three or four hours had passed, and Clara wasn't coming back. So he'd been drinking while waiting for her. And he made friends (if you could call that friends), and he was probably a little drunk. He didn't talk a lot, because the Bitter (apparently that's what they called the beer. he didn't even remember if it was the real story. but it was good) was taking all his English and he was starting to talk in French again. Needless to say the men didn't understand a bloody word so he couldn't be understood. He just listened, which was good enough for him. And good enough for them. Between two conversations, he could think about the wine. Sweet, sweet French Wine.

The door opened, Arno's back still facing it, and the man just in front of him whistled, saying something like _look what we've here gentlemen_ with a bold laugh. The Frenchman rolled his eyes, but turned to look at whoever they were all staring at (probably a girl, anyway). What a surprise it was to see Evie, her hood down, her cane in the hand, looking at his new friends with visible disgust. She motioned him to come, and he wasn't awake enough to say no, so he just got up on his feet, barely able to stand, chuckled and attempted to walk where she was going. The others were encouraging him (which was useless), and he said _goodbye_ with a hand sign.

Evie sat and he succeeded in his attempt to join her. She was giving him the disappointed look, the same one she gave Jacob almost every time (he’d seen it before) and he just smiled like an idiot. He was going to have to talk. He wanted to do it first. He tried his best to talk all in English. But it was hard. Really hard.

"Hey, Evie. _Tout va bien_? Wanna kill me?"

Same disappointed look. "Are you drunk?"

" _Noooon_. I'm faking it. _Pas mal_ , right? How am I as an actor?"

She didn't say anything about the sarcasm. "I want us to talk. I heard what you said with your victim."

" _C'était toi_!" He laughed, then came back to a serious face. "Thank you for the honesty, but I figured it out _facilement_. You know, your brother. _Il a essayé de me tuer_. Thank you for that. _C'était très amusant_."

She closed her eyes and bit her lower lip. Obviously she understood what he just said (even though he talked in French) and she regretted. Or something like that. Actually Arno didn't care. He wasn't in condition to care. Nor to move. Or to do anything, in fact. So he just waited for her to talk. Like, really. He didn't have anything else to say.

"I didn't want that, Arno. I'm sorry, all right? I believed the man."

"Yeah right. You believed him. _Un traître_. Am I chased by the whole Brotherhood?"

"They didn't take the news well. Arno... All he said. Is it true?"

"All he said? Yes. Except the 'you're a Templar' part." And suddenly he was horribly serious, his English coming back. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry my Mother left. I'm sorry my Father was killed. I'm sorry I was ten when I was adopted by a Templar who I didn't know was an enemy to my real Father. I'm sorry I grew fond of the man who raised me for most of my life. I'm sorry I wanted vengeance for his death."

She could see the sadness in his eyes while he talked to her, and she believed him now. And she hated herself because she just crashed everything he had managed to do here.

"I can't bring you to the headquarters just yet. Henry sent a man to your Brotherhood asking for details about you. I only gave everyone another reason to hate you."

"That wasn't a difficult task. I can't walk properly anyway."

"I can't bring you back but I can help you. You have a lead, right? Why else would you be here?"

" _Pour boire_." He was smiling again. "No need for your help right now. I'll just wait for Clara. She talked about you and your brother."

"You met Clara?"

"Yup. And she offered to help me. So now she's somewhere in the city and I have no idea what to expect. But I'm sleeping here tonight. Probably on the table with my new friends there."

He pointed in the direction of his previous chair, and she nodded. She looked deep into his eyes, trying to find at least a piece of the man she almost kissed on the rooftops last time. But there wasn't anything. There was no more of 'Loverboy', like Jacob liked to call him. He was gone the moment she betrayed him. There was no denying it: she fucked up. As simple as that.

"I'll come back tomorrow then."

He nodded too, and, closing his eyes, got up. He was going to walk back to where he was before she arrived. She wasn't even thinking about anything when she stopped him by grabbing his right arm. She turned him so he could face her, cupped his head with her hands and placed a quick kiss on his lips. It was innocent, and she didn't even know she would do it the previous second, but she did it anyway. Then they were both standing in front of one another, wide eyes. She stepped back before storming out of the pub, leaving him here alone talking to her in a whisper when she was already gone.

"...Good night."

* * *

"What the hell is she doing?"

Jacob had watched his sister all the way. Two Rooks were with him (and they were not really happy about that, actually) in case he'd need them. In case SHE'd need them. But he saw her enter a while (what seemed like an eternity) ago and he couldn't see what she was doing. It didn't scare him; he knew she could handle herself just fine. But he wanted to be in there with her. He wanted to witness the exchange between his sister and the miserable traitor he used to barely trust. Now the man was no more than a pathetic little thing that deserved to rot in some prison, or better: to die.

He sighed loudly before he heard to door to the pub open. Full of hope, he instantly turned to see his sister coming out of the place, her eyes looking... Well, nowhere. Her gaze was lost. _God damn it._ Even now Loverboy managed to keep confuse her? To do whatever the hell he was always doing to his twin? Now he really was going to kill him. Evie suddenly came back to life, and looked at her brother when she was in front of him. She didn't seem sad, or happy. No, she seemed a little bit desperate, disappointed (but he-did-nothing so it wasn't Jacob's fault) and tired. Especially tired.

"So, what'd you say to him?"

She lowered her gaze and took a deep breath as if she wanted to clear her head.

"I didn't get to know a lot of things. He's actually drunk."

"What? I'm the one supposed to be drunk at all time."

"Yeah well he apparently met Clara, asked her for help, and now he's drinking waiting for her. He's half talking in French. I didn't understand everything he told me."

"Let's get him and bring him back to the HQ then, he can't do anything."

His sister sighed, shook her head and looked behind her. 

"No. We can't. He kind of explained the story to me. Let's wait until the man Henry sent comes back, all right? I believe him now and I'm going to help him."

Jacob huffed and he would have shouted his anger and disappointment if he weren't in the middle of a street, wearing strange clothes and being followed by gang members. He was suspicious enough like that, no need to break the actual silence (if you could call that silence) of the place.

He was not happy with the situation. He needed to hit something. Anything. Anyone. It all was so frustrating, because he didn't even hit the other, with a _revolver_ , when he was just in front of him. How did the guy even dodge it? Didn't matter. Now what? They were stuck. Sure, the trip to Paris wasn't that big if the man went fast, but if they had to wait all this time, he was never going to have the opportunity to confront the guy. Or maybe he would have. Who knew. But now Evie was protecting him (again). He didn't have to ask: he knew she would die before letting her brother do anything to Arno. She was like that.

"Fine. But next time I'm coming. I want to see how he reacts seeing me after a night drinking. That's the final combo."

"...Whatever you want. But if you touch him, I'm killing you."

Jacob was _grinning_ , his eyes full of satisfaction. He knew she would keep her promise and kill him if he attempted something (although the other could probably defend himself, right? he didn't need Evie for that) and he was not going to do anything. But the encounter would be priceless. For now, they headed back home. 

"I'll find a way to do it without you seeing."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> French translations:  
> Tout va bien? - Everything alright?  
> Pas mal - Not bad  
> C'était toi! - It was you!  
> Facilement - Easily  
> Il a essayé de me tuer - He tried to kill me  
> C'était très amusant - It was very funny  
> Un traître - A traitor


	10. Mocking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry! Sorry. I know I don't update quickly. To be honest I re-started my fourth semester of studies (thank you Scotland for being so slow responding to my emails) and have lots of work. I probably won't be updating any faster than this (probably even slower).  
> Anywaaaay. I don't know how many chapters there will be, I'm currently making it longer with ideas! Aaaand, by the way, what we have here is the new record: longest chapter of the fic. I hope you like it. :) 
> 
> Also, I'm bad even at fluff, aren't I?
> 
> edit: man, I need a beta-reader.
> 
> Characters belong to Ubisoft.

"WAKE UP!"

A fist hit the table, making all three of the men jump. They opened their eyes, before quickly closing them again. Daylight was hurting. Arno was the first to open his eyes a second time. He wasn't dreaming, the sun was already up in the sky. Last thing he remembered, he was drinking with a bunch of locals. Now, what he saw - well, managed to see with his blurred vision - was the presence of two others, trying to get up as well. He waited some more seconds, taking time to see clearly again. When he turned his head to his right, he saw the bartender. Really-angry, pistol-eyes and furrowed-brows bartender. The man was looking at them from where he stood, obviously pissed off. And disgusted, which seemed to be quite the fashion around here.

The three stupid drunkards attempted to stand up all at the same time. They instantly regretted trying.

"My head..."

"And mine."

"It hurts!"

"I tried to wake you boys, but you didn't react. Glad to see you're not dead yet. For the sake of my other clients, you all have to go."

If his two companions agreed, Arno was still trying to remember what had happened last night. Evie came. Evie-fucking-Frye had come to see him. To talk. She said she believed him now. About damn time. As if it mattered. But, then again, she promised to help him. He had at least that. He wiped the sweat covering his face, and told the boss why he had to stay, begging him to let him. It was an Assassin- friendly place, right? But the Frenchman's new friends had no reason to stick around with him right now. He just shook their hands and wished them a good day (which would most likely not happen, considering the hangover they were dealing with).

Last solution now was to wait. He closed his eyes again, begging for his headache to stop and careful not to fall asleep again. His thought came back not to the twins, but to Clara. What was _she_ doing? Did she find anything? She was for now his last chance. He didn't have any other lead and certainly no other help. Evie could do what she wanted; nobody would be able to find a random man in that short time. The information would already be sent... If it wasn't by now. He sighed. He really was in deep shit.

He straightened up and took a deep breath. Right. So what could he do to find his man? What would happen if Clara didn't find him? And what then?

Arno's thoughts went back to Evie (how many times would that happen?). Oh yes, she left him a second time. He definitely didn't trust her anymore. But inside, he wanted to. He liked her. Really liked her. And she seemed to like him as well (when she was not crushing his life like it was a simple bug). This was another situation. Another plan of attack he needed to prepare. _What the hell is happening with me?_ A plan of attack? Was he now considering her a battle he needed to fight? 

Not that she wasn't. Frye the oldest was a mystery, doubled with a fortress and if she were a battle, she'd be a World War. But he needed to calm himself. She remained a person.

Looking back in front of him he saw his new-best-friend bartender smile before showing the door to Arno. The Assassin raised a brow and wondered what was happening. He turned to face the entrance. His meeting was here. Evie was making her way into the bar.

Wait. Did she really bring Jacob? Arno swallowed when he saw the Rook followed by two of his men, who stood next to the door when they came inside. Great. 

She instantly spotted him (because there was few people in the room) and approached carefully. She probably saw his anger. Her lips motioned a 'sorry' and she looked back at her brother. The man was grinning, just like the previous night, and he took a chair to sit on the wrong way, causing Arno's anger to grow bigger. So much arrogance coming from one man alone. He clenched his teeth.

"How. Dare. You."

"Don't I have the right to come here now?" Jacob seemed SO pleased with himself. "You look like hell. It's better than I imagined. Priceless."

Ignoring the comment, Arno turned to face Evie where she was standing. "When you said _I'll come back tomorrow_ , you could have told me he would be here."

"He insisted."

The Frenchman resisted the urge to facepalm. "He insisted. Where is the strong Evie I saw the first time, the one who verbally crushed her own brother?"

"She was gone the moment she kissed you. Perhaps even before"

The blue-coated Assassin slowly turned his head in Jacob's direction. He saw the other's face becoming red. The thing to know now was the reason of this. Anger? Surprise? Disgust? Something else?

"You kissed him again."  
"I did. Yesterday. None of your business. Shut up."

They all looked at each other, speechless. Between Arno, who had a hangover, Jacob, who just discovered his sister was a real woman with feelings and Evie who just publicly announced she kissed a man who was a stranger four days ago, it was hard to find something to say.

Luckily, someone talked before they could even find a conversation worth starting, with a little happy voice.

"Are you all finished?"

* * *

"Hey Clara."

Jacob smiled, something he wasn't doing a lot lately. He would never admit it, but he liked the girl. She was useful, and when she wasn't bothering him at the wrong time (it always was the wrong time), she was a good company. With her usual smile, she just entered the Seven Bells, probably to talk to Arno. With a little luck, she would have nothing and Loverboy would go back home. Or be killed. Whatever was best.

He looked at the Frenchman, whose face was now totally different. Hope was covering all of him, and the guy was staring at Clara like she wasn't even real. Evie, on the other hand, was gently watching the little girl, waiting for what she had to say.

"Hi Jacob. Evie, Arno." She quickly turned to face the last one. "I might have something."

"Might?"

"Well, you said it yourself, a man like that would be hard to find. But, knowing what you were searching, I managed to make a few deductions. You see, I have friends in the city who helped me."

"Deductions. That's better than nothing. Tell us." Jacob flinched a bit when hearing the last word.

"All right. I found two possibilities." She waited a second to make sure everyone was listening to her. "The first one is, of course, Robert Strain."

Jacob jumped. "That's one of _my_ targets."

Evie raised a brow and glared at him with a questioning look. "What do you mean, your target?"

"He's a Templar leader and has some sort of a gang. With Bloody Nora out, he's probably the most powerful now. I'm doing that one. No discussion." He pointed at all of them. Clara cleared her throat.

"Right. But Strain is a little too obvious, you know? I mean he's one of the most targeted, so it's dangerous to give him something important, especially when the Assassins must not find it. So I thought about someone else. I didn't come back yesterday night because it took me a lot of time to see if they still existed, and if they were still in business. And they are. The Carolls."

She gave them a triumphant smile, proud of herself. But it quickly faded when she saw the three Assassins not knowing who they were. The girl sighed and passed a hand on her neck. This was going to be long.

"The Carolls used to be a powerful Templar family. They were good friends with the French Order in the late 1700s. They lost a great part of their influence when their daughter May -the only heir- was killed, she was around twenty. But they managed to make another one so the family's still alive. Word is they are still in contact with the French Templars. They live in a big mansion southwest of London. There are lots of people guarding it, but nothing you can't manage, I think."

Jacob found this perfect. If there was another target, more likely to have what Frenchie searched, it was perfect for him. He could go after Robert Strain without the task of searching the information for him. Or even _work with him_. He shivered. Nope. That was _never_ going to happen. It was Evie's thing to work with 'handsome' strangers, now.

The other two Assassins looked at each other with an (apparently) understanding nod, and then turned to him. He watched them with confusion. What? What was the problem? As far as he knew, he didn't do anything wrong. Both of them were acting like his parents right now. His father, especially. Always there looking at him with disappointment or disgust or whatever bad feeling you could ever imagine. Evie had the right to look like him (a bit), but Arno didn't. He was an outsider, a stranger who would soon get the fuck out of the country or so help him we was going to drag the man there if needed. The Rook took a deep breath, and managed to calm down a little.

"I'm not taking care of Robert Strain today. We're not prepared. Do what the hell you want, but don't ask me anything."

Evie raised her eyebrows. "Did you just make a good decision?"

"Shut up. Go and eat your boyfriend's face. Don't forget to help him so we can finally get rid of his ass."

He meant to be quiet. He really did. But he couldn't restrain himself. He had to tell this truth, because that's what he thought every time he saw them together. And looking at the face they all made, it was worth it. Evie was watching him with great disbelief, her face was going red (or purple, or both). Arno was surprised, but he tried to retain a smile. Clara had her mouth opened, eyes wide, probably wondering if what she just heard really meant what she thought it meant (and considering her level of maturity, it probably did). Satisfied by these reactions, Jacob stood up reached for his top hat in his coat, and put it on. 

"Well it's been a pleasure, but I've got a gang to take care of. Have fun."

He went for the door, motioning his two Rooks to come, and heard his sister behind him. 

"I'll make you pay for that."

"I'm sure you will."

He left the pub, readjusting his coat, gave a quick glance around, and went on his way to what used to be the Blighters' headquarter. Meanwhile, the three others were still frozen inside of the Seven Bells. Arno was the first to react. He cleared his throat and looked up at Evie, who was still staring at the door. It was time now. They could be able to go and test the ground before attacking. If she really wanted to help him, she would have to come. She knew that. She turned to face Clara, and asked her for the exact address. They both thanked the little girl, and got out of the pub.  
Evie sighed. It was going to be a long day. She looked at Arno.

"Rooftops?"

* * *

"Rooftops."

Arno nodded while answering. Evie and him quickly climbed the walls and found themselves high, gazing upon the City. They started to walk (because it was morning and they had plenty of time to go), occasionally jumping on other sides of the buildings. The silence was heavy, too heavy, but neither of them knew what to say. They often glanced quickly at each other, making sure the other didn't see it. What could they say? They didn't have anything to talk about at the moment. Did he forgive her? He probably did. So this part was already done. Did she say she was sorry? _Diable_ , he didn't remember shit. He knew the big parts. He didn't remember the rest. The Frenchman took a deep breath. They needed to talk. About anything. He had to engage the conversation. _To find something_.

"Did you really kiss me last night? I thought it was a dream." Surprised, she looked at him.

"I was sober, unlike you, and am fairly sure it happened."

"Not even denying it?" Arno smirked and waited a second before being honest. "I liked it." Her cheeks reddened. "Though it was too quick for my liking."

She hit his arm, but didn't hurt him. "I didn't mean to do it at first, consider yourself lucky."

"Will I get a real one soon?"

She (they) stopped walking, and looked him in the eyes when he turned to face her. "Don't mock me."

"I am not mocking you."

Oh and his smile was so _sincere_ she found it painful to watch. He watched her like she was the most precious thing in the world. He didn't judge her. He wasn't leaving her alone with her cold-women reputation. Evie closed her eyes and bit her lower lip.

"You're terrible for me, Mr Dorian."

"And why is that, Ms Frye?"

She was unconsciously coming closer to him with every word she spoke. He didn't move an inch. 

"It's difficult to be a cold-blooded Master Assassin with a handsome brother-in-arms walking around."

"Handsome, uh?"

She was now as close to him as they once were, (what seemed) ages ago. She remembered, and this situation was similar. Except this time, she wanted it. She was almost as tall as him. She looked at his features. She looked deep in his eyes, which were always in the shadows, and was surprised to find them that beautiful. She observed his features, finding him more charming every second that passed. He looked at her with such intensity it was incredible.

Arno couldn't manage to watch something or someone else. He was admiring her light blue (or was it green?) iris. He could look at her for days, weeks, _years_ , the pink of her mouth, her freckles, the thin strand of hair that fell before her left eye, the beauty of her face. It was such a shame she was that reluctant to human contact, when he was desperate for it.

They didn't ask. They didn't think. They didn't bother wondering what was going on. In a second, they found themselves glued to each other, kissing like there was no tomorrow. He wrapped his right arm around her waist, taking her even closer to him, his left hand reaching to her cheeks. And she lifted up her arms, putting her hands behind his neck or on his shoulder. Both their eyes were closed, and he could feel her heart beating as fast as a galloping horse. Their lips were now wet and warm, moving in synchronisation. His touch was soft and hers was light. They were outside, but the temperature seemed to have increased significantly.

And finally they pulled apart with a loud smack- the two Assassins, breathless, tried to catch some air. They didn't leave each other's side, though. She put her forehead on his collarbone, and he chuckled lightly.

"Well that's what you call _a real one_. So this is why Jacob told you to 'eat your boyfriend's face'."

She looked back at him and smiled uncomfortably. "Did we just-"

"We did, yes."

"Alone on a rooftop." She seemed to hardly believe it.

"It's better than doing it in front of your brother, honestly."

She laughed with him. "I've never done it like that." Evie looked up to meet his eyes. " _I liked it_."

He glared at her with disbelief. "So much for _don't mock me_!"

She grinned and took a deep breath, shaking a little. "Do I have to call you my boyfriend, now?"

"Do whatever you want, babe."

"Don't. Call me that. Give me a cute French surname so I don't understand what it means." She offered him a perfect smile. He couldn't resist this one.

"As you wish, _trésor_."

She smiled, because it seemed close to the English word, and became serious for a moment. "And for now, we're not anything, all right?"

"Sure." He wasn't even disappointed.

Arno slowly put down the arm holding her waist, just as she lowered her arms. They stood close to each other, however, and waited some time for the situation to come back to normal. Only then did they look around them again. London hadn't changed, the sun was still high in the sky. If it had happened earlier, the blue-coated Assassin would have feared Jacob's reaction if he ever learned. But this morning, he did tell her to do it. He had no reason to worry just now. If not for the mission they still had, the day was starting really, really well.

With a happiness she didn't recall ever feeling before, she turned to him and spoke as if she was reading his mind.

"Shall we go, now?"

* * *

"Alright lads!"

Jacob clapped his hands. He'd been waiting for this moment all morning. After leaving the Seven Bells, he'd watched his sister go out with Loverboy, and now he was back home. In the new gang headquarters, with his men. His friends. His Rooks. 

He was the boss, yes, but he liked the guys. They did what the Assassins had never done: accept him as he was. If not for Henry being Grandmaster, he would probably have been kicked out of the Brotherhood by now. He was too reckless. Too brash. Too hot-headed. He didn't listen. He didn't learn. He didn't care. He should be like his father. He should follow the path Evie had. He should rely more on stealth. Respect the Creed. Help his fellow Assassins. Help the Brotherhood. Help London.

But he did, right? Sure, he had his own methods. He never liked this don't-be-seen style. His arrogance needed to be fuelled every single day. He needed people to respect, fear, or obey him. Yes, he wasn't respecting the traditional ways of the Assassins and their Creed. 'Never compromise the Brotherhood.' But was he endangering it? No. Nobody knew where they were hiding, the only person he put in danger by acting like that was himself. 'Stay your blade from the flesh of the innocent'. As far as he knew, no innocent had ever, _ever_ tasted his hidden blade or his kukri. Sure, he had beaten some, because they deserved it. But never to death.

'Hide in plain sight'. Right. This one he didn't like. They were the saviors. They were the reason why, soon, people wouldn't have to fear the Templars anymore. So why keep it secret? The enemy already knew they were here. Surely, with Bloody Nora dead, they wouldn't be surprised to see him arrive. The others could stay in the dark -like Evie did- if it was their choice. Jacob wanted to beat them all, and he wanted to be seen doing it.

He sighed and watched as his Rooks, who were now far more than he expected they would be, gathered in front of him. Luckily, some faces he recognized. Some of his most faithful men, never leaving his side, always here for him. The others he would learn to know. It was a promise.

"Good. Now, we're all really happy to have beaten Bloody Nora." Some nodded or cheered. "But, you are all aware of what is happening between Assassins and Templars. I taught most of you that. Well turns out, one of our dear Templar gang leader has been spotted. We have a new target, boys."

The reactions were mixed. "Boss, it's a bit early no?"

Jacob rolled his eyes. "Of course it is. I didn't say anything about attacking now. We will plan our attack. There is no deadline. You can all heal and train, don't you worry." 

He looked around, scanning all of them, feeding himself with the scared look of the ones he stared the longer at. He needed to pick the best recruits for the tasks he was going to give. Jacob didn't really have a plan in head, nor did he know what would be the reaction of his target. There were thousands of possibilities. The man would either be waiting for him or be taken by surprise. Perhaps he would flee; perhaps he would fight. What about escaping? This new target was more of a mistery than he appeared to be. The Assassin got out of his thoughts quickly and looked up again. He motioned the men to make a circle around him. 

"Good. We now need to get information. This new target of ours you might have heard of: Robert Strain." He ignored the whispered comments and walked from one man to another to give orders. He stood before a pair of experimented Rooks. "You two, you will try to study how it works in their headquarters. How they enter, how they get out, how many men are guarding the building. Do it the way you want, enter, disguise, blend, I don't care. Just find something." He turned back and made a group of six persons. "You will all try to follow Strain during his daily activities. I'll ask for help from the Brotherhood so you know where to find him and eventually his schedules. But you need to look for weaknesses. Habits. Got it?" All of them nodded, and with an understanding look, they all went on their ways. Jacob turned to the remaining Rooks. "In the meantime, heal or train, or whatever you feel will be good for the gang."

And it was all coming back to normal.

**Later**

Jacob was with his loyal Rook friends, talking over maps and plans of attack. They were actually scanning (already) the different ways to enter the bloody building. No chance with the windows. Balconies were even worse. He could try to enter from the bottom, but caves weren't really his cup of tea. They needed to think about all of that. He could make his way inside by beating everyone. He'd have to ask Evie about what she thought.

As for the escape. He always said it: when everyone's dead, walk out the front door.  
He didn't have the time to smile thinking about this idea, before he heard someone call him and heavy breath not so far away.

"Boss! Boss!" Jacob frowned. Now what? "The French guy's here! All bloody and everything! Says he's got bad news!"

It was like someone had stuck a knife into his spine. He was like paralyzed. No. It couldn't. It was impossible. He shivered. He was going to kill him. If anything, _anything_...

Then he saw him. Arno was walking, his face angrier than ever, between two Rooks. His Master outfit was covered in blood. His face was dirty, and he seemed tired or at least out of breath. Loverboy was a mess, to be honest. But it wasn't important. The important part was that Evie, who went with him, wasn't here right now. And the Frenchman's state, plus bad news? No. He saw the man free himself from the grasps of the two gang members, but didn't give him time to recover. He grabbed Arno's collar, threw him against a wall, unsheathed his hidden blade and put it on his throat. The previous two men of his made sure he couldn't move by grabbing the arms.

Jacob was _angry_ and wanted to _scream_ , his eyes were reflecting fire and if he couldn't stop himself... _All hell breaks loose_. He was only two inches from the other's face when he spoke. Quickly. Loudly. 

"What did you do to my sister?!"


	11. Lovely couple

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story trailer, people! THE STORY TRAILER. And Jacob is hilarious. And he was shirtless in the fight club demo.  
> I'm so hyped now I can't even describe it. It 'ruined' some fanfictions on the website, though :( Buuuut I think mine can survive.  
> The first part of this turned out to be far bigger than expected, so there's only two parts for this chapter.  
> Hope you enjoy!  
> And thank you for kudos and all \o/
> 
> Characters belong to Ubisoft.

"Well they sure have lots of guards."

Arno and Evie were crouching on a rooftop, right in front of the manor. They were high enough to not be seen, but close enough to be able to observe the place.

The building was huge. It had the form of a square bracket, the walls were white and the entrance door was at the very least ten feet tall. Everything was clean, from the property itself to the gardens around it. There was a great number of windows, although none of them was opened. And a lot, lot of men guarding the family.

The ones outside would not be a problem. The main fear was the inside of the house. Because the Assassins had already used their Eagle Vision; and the number of enemies in the mansion was outrageous. The whole thing was glowing red. They had found the information, however, as a small gold file had been visible, far, far away. Evie was confused.

"So, how are we going to do this exactly...?"

All of the awkwardness from before was now gone. The mission was all the mattered now, for both of them. Arno thought about an answer and looked once more at the place. They didn't have a real choice.

"Well, we can try and take everyone who's outside, for example behind the building. Then we can look for an entrance or something like that."

"Sounds like a plan."

" _Presque_. And, we need to be synchronized so we're not seen."

She nodded and they started running to the back of the house. Their new spot was low enough, so they jumped on the first two men they saw and killed them, before hiding them in a bush. Time for the real work. They split up on each side of the garden, taking enemies by pair. They basically all had the same pattern, going back and forth in a straight line. The place was full of hedges, meaning they could grab the bodies and hide them behind them.

The last couple of guards, however, walked randomly together. And they finally saw their dead friends, running around to check if they were truly dead. Hoping one would still be alive. Fear was obvious in their eyes, and they took out revolvers, looking around them. Evie took every opportunities she had when they turned their back for a time, slowly making her way to where Arno was frozen. She joined him and, as they now had a good view, gave him an understanding look. When the men turned once again, both Assassins jumped and ran as quickly as possible, jumping on their respective target. 

In a second, everyone was dead.

They got up, sheathed their hidden blades and smiled. The back garden was now clean, and they were free to move without hiding here. They hid all the bodies, just-in-case, and looked for an entrance. A door. Anything. Evie found something first. She pointed at a big door, heading for the ground. She approached carefully, and saw a small window hugging the ground. There was nobody inside.

"There. Probably a cellar."

Arno shrugged. That was better than nothing. Luckily, it wasn't locked. He opened it, let Evie walk in and entered himself. He took his time to close it without making a noise. They crouched again, preparing themselves for enemies to fight. This was going to be fun. They needed to stay silent.

Triggering Eagle Vision, he saw the corridor in front of was empty. He motioned Evie to go. The best way to get there quickly was to take the stairs. Deep breath. The interior was just as expected : it _smelled_ of luxury. Gold everywhere. The ground shone like a mirror. They climbed, step by step, as quiet as possible. They could see the enemies, and waited until all of them weren't watching to quickly get to another place. 

So now they were hiding behind a wall. Not the best idea they had had for today. Evie was the one who could see the room they just left from her hiding spot. There were three men, none of them facing the same way. There way but two solutions. A bomb of any sort, killing of stunning them (or a smoke bomb, but...), or blades. Arno had his phantom blade, and she had throwing knives. She took one out, showing it to him. He understood, and put two blades in his weird mini-crossbow (how did this thing even work, he didn't know himself). They both got up, and before the men could say anything, shot them in unison.

After taking back their blades, (because why not), they headed again for the information. They needed it. Now. One by one, they silently killed the guards who got on their way. It wasn't that difficult. It even was too easy. They didn't like it. Plus, the Carolls weren't there. So many men, guarding absolutely nothing? That was suspicious. But they didn't stop. They'd find a way to get out, anyway. They studied the place long enough while being on the roof to know this was it. The room where the file was. They entered. Bad choice.

As they got into the room, they found themselves facing some people. Probably the family, judging by the outfits. And guards all over. They heard others come behind them. So now they were trapped. How could they have not prevent this? When the hell did they all come here? And most importantly, why did they not see them?

"Look who we have here. What a lovely couple. I was wondering how much time it would take you to come here."

The man who spoke was, without doubt, the master of the place. He was nicely dressed, had a perfect smile and his hair had been combed more than once today. He approached the Assassins carefully, and motioned his men to hold their arms. They started to take their gauntlets, putting themselves out of danger, still firmly gripping their arms. He opened a drawer in his desk, took the precious file and looked at Arno.

"I suppose _this_ is what you're looking for. Too bad you won't have it." He then looked at her. "I have friends who would love to see you dead, Mrs Frye. For now you will go in prison until we can decide what to do with you." Arno, followed by Evie, started to struggle; but they were failing.

"Shall we take her to Pentonville, sir?"

Caroll looked at her, thinking for a moment. "No. Take her to Brixton."

It was so surprising, the Assassins didn't see this coming. One of the guards knocked her out from behind. She didn't even have time to defend herself. The great Evie Frye had been taken by a Templar. Because of Arno. He definitely did everything wrong, here. He struggled harder. He was moving like possessed by the devil, the man behind him trying to tighten his grip. They quickly evacuated Evie, just as he freed himself. The door closed behind them, and he heard a key.

 _Merde!_ His arms were now free. He turned back in a second and punched the man as hard as possible. He had to escape. To follow them. Except he had enemies coming in the room to kill him. That was enough. He squinted and looked at all of them. He could take everyone. He was filled with anger. He reached inside of his coat, from where a hidden dagger came out. Well, dagger. It was bigger than that. He made it fly in the air and took it back, blade facing the ground. He didn't even take the time to think. He was going to kill them. Every. Single. One of them. It was too late to catch Evie.

He sliced the throat of the first one on his way, planted the blade in the heart of the second. He dodged a punch and returned the favor. 

Blood was spilling everywhere. On their clothes. On his clothes. On his face. On the ground. On the walls. He kicked them in the belly and drove his blade onto their spines. He didn't have his hidden blades, unfortunately, as they had removed them. One by one, man by man, he killed them. Combat was hard, but he managed to not get touched (except once, a punch in the shoulder, but the man who did it was no longer alive to be happy about it). 

Some of the men were harder to kill than the others. He wiped everyone out anyway. And then, he found himself in front of one remaining guard, standing on a pile of dead targets (because all of them had been targets the moment they had touched Evie and him). The man's eyes widened, and he tried to escape by running in the corridor. Arno followed him and threw his dagger in the guy's back.

He looked around him. So now they were all dead. Never before in his life had he been in a fight like this one. Alone. With only a dagger to defend him. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes nd managed to calm himself. Right. Evie. He had to save Evie. What did they say they were going to do to her? Kill her? He remembered something about a prison. He turned to face the desk, where he took back (and put on) his gauntlets. The elements of Evie's were also here. He didn't hesitate and took them, placing everything inside his coat.

Now what? He didn't really have a choice. He couldn't go alone. First because he had no idea where the prison was. Second because if he failed, no one would know what happened and Evie would probably die. He had but one thing to do: go to Jacob, and tell him everything. That was going to be fun. He ran in the whole property (not forgetting his dagger), going back the way they came. Only this time, he didn't use stealth. In front of a mirror, he had the time to look at himself for a second. He was covered in blood. But not his.

Instead of heading to the cellar, he saw the entrance door and opened it without hesitation. The two men guarding it turned back, and he drove his hidden blades in their throats. Still running, he avoided everyone else and got out of there. He climbed a wall and used the rooftops to get quickly to the Rooks headquarters. He didn't have enough time to stop. He was already as tired as possible, but he wouldn't take a break. They had to save her. NOW. As he got in front of the entrance, he got back on the ground with a quick jump. He didn't try to find a way to enter without asking. He walked straight to the front door but was stopped by two men. Dammit.

"Can't let you walk in here mate. You're not welcome. Fuck off."

"I've got bad news. I can assure you he wants to see me." Arno was too tired to protest, but he could ask.

"I can't let you in without the boss saying you can enter."

Ok, _now_ they pissed him off. "THEN GO ASK HIM!"

He stood there as one of the guys ran to inform Jacob. The remaining Rook looked at him with great disdain. The Frenchman returned him the look.

At last, the other came back and grabbed Arno's right arm, motioning for his colleague to do the same with the left one. Still angry, he let himself being dragged in, but decided to free himself once they would be in front of the 'boss'.

Jacob's face was priceless, and, in other conditions, it could have been funny. But it wasn't. The man was frozen, didn't move an inch and watched him whole. Yeah, he was covered in blood. So what. They were now in front of him. Good. Arno struggled a bit, and freed himself. But he didn't have time to look back in front of him. Jacob grabbed him by the collar, anger filling his eyes (much like him in the mansion), threw him (aouch) against the closest wall and put his hidden blade on his throat. Really? _What did you do to my sister?!_ He tried to save her, that's what he did. Of course, because he was suspected of being a Templar, there was no way the Rook would believe that.

"Go ahead, Jacob. Kill me."

* * *

"You have no idea how much I want to."

But he couldn't. Jacob knew very well he had to let the bastard live, if only to know what happened, was happening, or would happen. Or all of these. He didn't want to lose his sister. He didn't want to be left alone in the big bad world, with his Rooks for only company. Without Evie, there was no point in staying in the Brotherhood. He'd give his life for her. She was the only person in the world capable of making him change. The only person he listened to. Most of the time. There was no way he was losing her without losing himself as well.

Eyes on fire, heart beating as quickly as ever, he took a step back and glared at the other's outfit while his men let go of his arms. Arno was covered in dry blood, and what he thought was dirt on his face at first glance appeared to be the same substance. What the hell happened for him to look like that. He obviously was only tired, so he wasn't wounded. There must have been a battle. A great battle. How many men did he fight, that was a big question. But surely there must have been a lot, judging from the amount of blood on the man.

"You better tell me what happened."

Arno raised a brow. "And why exactly do you think I'm here?"

" _Speak_."

"Right... It all went well. We found the information and all, killed some guards, survived, no wound whatsoever." Jacob looked at him, suspicious. That wasn't what he'd expected. "...Until we arrived in the room where the information was. They got us, the Carolls. They were _waiting_ for us. I don't know how they did it but they didn't appear when we used the Vision." Arno closed his eyes. He seemed desperate. Was it because of Evie, or because he failed his mission? God. "So they didn't even care about me, they basically left me to die in the hands of the guards, but they knocked Evie out and took her."

"What?! But she has her gauntlet, with all the bloody tools, she can defend herself from any punch."

Arno reached under his coat, and the Rook saw in his hands the elements that usually covered her hand. He couldn't believe it. So according to Loverboy, his sister, a Master Assassin, managed to get caught and to be knocked out. And they took her. And they had the time to take all she had to attack anyone. Great. So now the mission was simple. Find his twin and bring her home. But first...

"What's with the blood?"

Arno looked at him with the most serious gaze he ever had. "I killed them, Jacob. All of them. I left a pool of blood behind me. There is not one guard alive in the mansion. Not anymore."

The thing was, with an outfit like that, he could do nothing but trust the man. He regretted his thought of the first day, how he said he wasn't even fit for combat. If he really killed everyone? He had his respect. Well, part of his respect.

But back to the matter at hand. Evie. They needed to find her. Where did they take her? She was like him, like the whole Brotherhood, she had plenty of enemies. Nobody needed a reason to ask for her death. She did it quietly and without being seen (or without leaving witnesses, which was basically the same), but she did it anyway. Sure, it was for London. But they didn't know that. Or didn't care. Or believed the contrary. Now if only he could know who exactly she pissed off, it would be gr-

"I know where they took her, Jacob."

"Why didn't you say it earlier?!"

"I just said it now." Arno rolled his eyes.

Jacob was angry again. "Stop being an asshole, Dorian. I'm going to find her, so speak right now."

"Well that's funny because I'm going too."

At everyone's surprise, Jacob laughed. He laughed for real, because he really found it funny. In his state, the man wanted to go. With the Rooks, he wanted to go. He could only be joking. Unless. Unless he grew fond of her (which he already knew was true), and she _actually_ ate his face, and now they were something. Like, for real. _What have I done_.

"You're joking, right?"

"I'm not. You'll need stealth to go and find her. We all know you're a brute and you certainly did not teach your Rooks to work the same way your sister does."

He didn't see it before, but said gang members were actually regrouping around them. Looking at their argument and the Frenchman's outfit. He still didn't agree, though, and made a point of showing it. "And why would I need stealth to find my sister?"

" _Because they are taking her to prison_!"

Whispers were heard. Jacob's eyes widened. "Tell me you're kidding."

"I'm not. They're taking her to Brixton."

Of course. Brixton. Because why not chose the worst prison ever in terms of living condition? Why not manage to put her in solitary confinement, as it was the rule for new female inmates (or so he heard)? Why not chose the prison with a hanging cell (yes, he knew that)? He needed to punch something. This was not the day he wanted to have. Everything had started well, and now he was listening to Loverboy saying they needed to work together _again_ , but this time to save his sister. HIS sister. He was tired of this. Why did he let her go with him again? If she'd left the guy do that alone, she would still be alive and well in a safe place. At least, safer than a prison.

Jacob passed a hand on his face and rubbed his eyes before looking up at Arno again. Did he have a choice? Maybe. 

"Do you even _know_ how Brixton is?"

"No, that's why you're here."

"Brixton is the most unsanitary prison, if not _building_ in London. Life conditions are somehow even worse than living in the streets. Especially for women. If she's treated like a normal inmate, she'll be in solitary confinement."

And that wasn't good. That wasn't good at all. He would give anything to have his sister back right now, because the mere thought of her alone in a dirty cell made him sick. He (they) needed to go as quickly as possible (like, right now) to find Evie. His eyes looked around, his Rooks staring at the two Assassins, probably wondering what would happen now. And that would be a bloody good question. He didn't have a plan, not now. Arno didn't seem to have a real one either. He watched him as if to ask what they were supposed to do now. How to act. He just hoped the other understood. He did.

"I'd ask that we go to your Brotherhood to ask for help, but I seem to recall they all hate me."

"...Right. So why would we need your service?" Arno sighed.

"You can think whatever you want, I've seen enough to know how you would do it. It's a prison. You can't just come, try to kill everyone and get out alive and well. You can't leave your Rooks by themselves and go inside to infiltrate either." He actually had a point, and that annoyed Jacob. "What you need is to fight in the open like you do best, and let _me_ go in unseen. And when you're eventually finished, you can join me."

Why was he always the one making the plans? Even for Bloody Nora's attack he made the plan. Even when he just had one target, he made the plan.

Then again, Jacob didn't have much choice. He had no details, only a lot of angry Rooks eager to fight; especially the few who knew and appreciated his sister (which was difficult, considering how she didn't _really_ like them, and how scary she seemed for some). What could he do but what he did best? Go in there and kill or punch everyone was what he liked to do. Stealth had never been his favourite way of killing, especially since it was their father's. He made a point of being as different as possible. He didn't want to end up being Ethan. Evie already did.

He turned and looked at his circle of Rooks.

"Anyone's ready to go and rescue Evie from prison, come with us!"

He could see Arno's surprise when most of them cheered and shouted in anger-happiness-determination, with predatory smiles on their faces. He apparently couldn't believe his eyes. but no matter how he and Evie felt or said, the men were good and loyal. He could count on them. They were not highly skilled fighter like them, but they could defend themselves better than the others, as Jacob himself trained every single one of his recruits, and Bloody Nora trusted hers (if she was even able to trust anyone).

He took Evie's stuff from the Frenchman without asking and put them inside his coat, to replace the top hat he put on his head. He didn't see the amused look on Arno's face, the man mocking said hat. His only concern was now his sister. 

They didn't even leave time for Arno to clean his face, but instantly started to travel to Brixton. They didn't want to draw attention, thus went by foot, taking a safe route. Meaning they travelled through the slums, watched by everyone who lived in it. He had taken around ten Rooks with him, leaving the others to take care of the wounded, and the headquarters. Jacob was leading the way, followed by the other Assassin, himself walking before the gang members who weren't so happy working with the guy. They had no fear and talked out loud (though not as loud as they wanted) about how the man was despicable and useless in fights.

Apparently that didn't please Arno, who probably had enough of this mental bullying, and made him turn around. They all stopped, because he blocked the way, and after unsheathing his hidden blade, he hissed _La ferme, ou je vous coupe tous la gorge avec ma lame secrète_ \- and even if they didn't understand a word (or maybe they did), the talking didn't come back once they continued their way.

The Surrey House of Correction, or Brixton Prison (depending on what you liked most), was a huge bunch of buildings, surrounded by high stone walls with curls of barbed wire on top; for protection. The entrances were few, even invisible somehow, and the only one they managed to find was a little door with a sign showing the name of the property. Two guards were posted in front of said door, weapons on them (but not in their hands), ready to attack (but not really) and... Not frightening. At all. It was standing before a large street, and the people passing by were rare. If they had to fight, now would be a good time.

Jacob and Arno were standing, hidden in the shadows, watching from their position the only way to enter the prison. It wasn't really what they were expecting, at least for Arno, who had to enter. No doubt behind it would there be a small room, followed by the long corridors somewhere. He would probably have to climb stairs, or something. 

"So, what exactly is the plan?"

"This is simple, I told you when we were at your place. You go with them," he pointed at the Rooks. ", and you fight everyone who has the good idea of coming on your way. When it's relatively safe, I enter and I search. I'll probably find her before you're finished, you can join us." That was indeed pretty simple. "I'll need her hidden blade, you know, just so she has something to defend herself."

Jacob eyed him and slowly reached into his coat, getting the blade part out and giving it to the other. He sighed, cracked his neck, and motioned his men to come. Now for the fun part. As his 'brother' hid again in the black part of the street, he walked calmly in the direction of the guards. Two were totally not enough for a prison. With their luck, there were far more inside. With HIS luck, most of them would come down and fight him. Jacob checked his weapons quickly before arriving in front of the enemy. Hidden blade, cane, Kukri, revolver. Yes, everything was here. Seeing him come with a gang following him, the guards started to become suspicious (about damn time) and one of them _dared_ come to him and tell him to _turn around sir, or I'll have to arrest you_. Not even changing his serious face, the Assassin threw his knee in the man's stomach and wrung his neck.

Immediately his colleague retreated and entered the building running. He heard _help_ , _attack_ , and other beautiful words, only to enter with the Rooks. It was probably safer for Arno to sneak behind a fight if the men weren't drawn outside every second. It was hard to believe he was actually thinking of the man's well being. Even though it was more like thinking about how if he died, Evie would have to wait until the fight was over, which wasn't a certitude (except it was, because he was Jacob Fucking Frye and he never lost a fight). Now was their moment of glory. Surely the Rooks would be in a great mood after this. He turned to face his men and smirked.

"Let's take 'em."


	12. Prisoner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeeey! It's been a while.  
> I'm not going to talk about how much work I have because you probably heard the same story from other people.  
> So here is a new chapter, hoping you like it! I'm not sure about the end, though.  
> Also from the way the story is going, I'm guessing it will soon be finished, except if I suddenly find a new idea on the way. Might make around 15 chapters. If you have idea or propositions, go on :3
> 
> Thanks for all the hits, by the way, I promised everyone I'd pay them a beer if it ever hit 1300... And it did. Now I have drinks to pay. Same thanks for the kudos and comments :) (I'm not paying anything for these)
> 
> Characters belong to Ubisoft.

"What happened…?"

Evie opened her eyes slowly, taking in the darkness of the room. It was cold in there, but she still had all her layers of clothes to keep her a bit warm. She was laying on the ground. The floor, just as the wall and basically the rest of the room, was made of hard grey stone and the silence was deafening. There was no window whatsoever (or it was incredibly well hidden, or it was night already); just a plain metal door planted in the middle of the wall she was facing, under which a ray of light could be seen. She sat up, a bit dizzy, and tried to observe her surroundings as best as she could.

Soon enough, her eyes became acclimated to the lack of luminosity, and she was able to view what was around her. What a disappointment to see there was absolutely nothing. Where the hell was she? Using what few strength still remained in her body, she attempted to get up. Like a newly-born foal, she barely made it and it took her 3 seconds to fall again. Alright. She would wait, then. 

But, how did she end here? She had no memory. Nothing she could remember. Last thing she knew, she was kissing Arno. Then they went on a mission, as concentrated as possible. It had been easier than expected, and turns out they really made a good team. She remembered being so happy about that. It was a nice change to work with him, knowing she generally worked alone.

Then, it hit her (literally). They'd been tricked. The owner of the manor was here, and he got them. She remembered being held by a strong man. A sudden thought came again, and she looked at her left hand. The gauntlet was not here anymore. She didn't have her hidden blade, nor the rope launcher or anything she possibly possessed. No throwing knives either. They might as well have taken her clothes off, she would have felt the same. 

She felt naked without weapons. Weak. Fragile. Exposed.

So what happened exactly in the manor? She'd been knocked out, taken, probably, and they put her here. In a cold and unknown cell. She remembered the bastard's little speech. Of course she had enemies. Not as much as Jacob, but as an Master Assassin, she couldn't walk unknown. Even with all the stealth. Not even mentioning the Rooks, because she, too, was their leader and the name Frye was as famous as the gang. _Where the hell am I?_ If she concentrated enough, maybe she would be able to know?

Then she thought about Arno. What happened to him? If they'd taken her, it meant they managed to keep him there, or anything implying he hadn't been able to save her, because she was still here.

Worst case scenario: he was dead. She could easily imagine the scene, the Frenchman being held by guards while he took bullets or blades in the chest. The mere though or vision or this made her sick and if she thought about it any longer, tears would threaten to form. No. He was too strong for this sort of end. Or was he?

Another possible scenario: he was just wounded. Another one: they needed him for whatever reason, and he was in a cell somewhere. Either way, they were fucked. Both of them.

Best case scenario: he was alive and well, and managed to escape. This one was totally possible, but the probability it happened wasn't big.

And for the rest? She knew his principles pretty well now, and he wasn't the kind of man to leave people like that. If he was alive, the probabilities said he was coming for her. But what if he wasn't? And if he was, would he come alone? Of course he couldn't. Wherever she was, he would have a hard time finding her, obviously. She wasn't just any kind of prisoner, after all. He could go to the Brotherhood and ask for help. No, who was she kidding? Everyone would blame him for her disappearance, and he would certainly not come out of there alive. He knew better than to visit them. 

That was leaving only one last possibility: Jacob. He probably went to see Jacob. And if her brother hadn't murdered him yet (who knew), they were a team now (because her sibling would never want it, but Arno would never let Jacob go alone, and none of them had an advantage in deciding to go alone, etc).

Of course, that was if he was still alive. If he wasn't, then she was doomed. She would suffer a great death, never to see her beloved ones again, even if they decided to take her life in public. Her fate depended on whether or not Arno had been able to escape. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Opening them again, she triggered Eagle Vision. As she was pretty tired, Evie couldn't see really far with it. But the corridor her cell leaded in was literally covered with guards. Great.

She didn't have the time to lose faith before at least half of the enemies turned their heads to her right and started running. She saw them go down some stairs, hurrying, shouting words she couldn't hear clearly due to the thickness of the walls.

There was still a great number of guards, however, and whatever came downstairs to disturb them would probably end pretty soon. Except... Except if it was someone coming for her. The Vision stopped suddenly and she was blind again. But at least now she had a new hope. At least. With a little luck, an ally really was coming for her. And considering nobody else could know about where she was...

After a while, she suddenly heard lots of noises coming from right in front of her door. She couldn't see for now, but she tried to listen, plastered against her door. With what little she could actually manage to hear, she distinguished the sound of death. Blades sounds everywhere, and a bullet. When she finally could, she turned on the Vision again and saw a golden figure between four guards, a fifth falling before him. She squinted and managed to see a bit better who she was observing. No doubt. Arno had come for her. She saw a second shot and watched as he killed all of them but one. As she became blind again, she heard two new bullets fly. He should have needed only one. Some sort of happiness mixed with worry climbed in her chest. Nothing really mattered at this precise moment. She got up and stood in front of the door, waiting for her prince charming (did she just think that) to open the door.

"At least he's alive."

* * *

"Why did I tell him again?"

Maybe one day he would understand why he did this. He might have been able to find the place alone and to infiltrate alone. But what did he do instead? He asked for help from a madman leading a gang. Arno sighed. No. He couldn't say this about Jacob. It wasn't fair. And he couldn't enter without him anyway. And he had the right to know about his sister. Yes, he did the right thing. Well, as right as he could.

He watched the British Assassin as he walked calmly, followed by his Rooks, heading for the entrance. It didn't take long for everything to be a mess. Jacob started by taking down a first guard that, like the Frenchman said earlier, had the bad idea of getting on his path. With delight, Arno saw him enter to start the fight. Maybe the guy wasn't as stupid as he thought. Because now if he wanted to sneak in, at least he could hide before the entrance to wait for the perfect moment. Which was probably the better way to enter unseen. 

Taking a deep breath, Arno stepped out of the shadows and ran to face the entrance. So that was it. He crouched and calmly entered the first room. Nobody there. Just in front of him stood what seemed like the main hall. The fight was big and great. Jacob and his men were giving endless punches to well-trained guards, and it didn't take long for weapons to suddenly get involved in the combat. But he was an Assassin. If not his Rooks, he would stand and, hopefully, kick all their asses. Two last guards went down the stairs, and as soon as their back were turned, Arno slipped behind them to go up.

The corridor was basically all stone and grey. A few guards remained (the rest of them probably being downstairs), but nothing he couldn't handle. Unlike what he thought, the doors to the cells weren't some bars. Instead, they were big metal door, most of them having a little window. Alright. The next stairs were on the other side of the prison (of course, because why the easy way when you could make it difficult), so he had to kill everyone. He scanned the area. 5 guards. Probably non-important prisoners there. He charged his phantom blade and killed the closest man with it. The one directly in front of the victim jumped, eyes wide, looked around and went quickly to check on his colleague. Arno took the opportunity and came behind him to sink his hidden blade into his neck, then proceeding to hide him in the corner. One by one, he killed them with the same tactic. They were as stupid as possible. With a little luck, it would be really easy.

When the corridor was clear, he ran upstairs and crouched again. He clenched his teeth. That wasn't going to be fun. Eagle Vision gave him an idea of how many floors he would have to go for now. He saw three. No gold figure yet. Damn. The same way he did for the previous, he cleaned the floor by attracting the guards' attention one by one. Unfortunately, he used the same tactic for the following one, as they all seemed similar. At least he didn't take damage and it was efficient.

Then he came by the third floor. This one was more guarded than the others (unfortunately), and he would have to be more careful. The way he made it earlier wouldn't work as at least one of them would see him. He needed another way to take them down. Why not make them fight each other? He put two berserk darts at once in his phantom blade and shot the stronger ones (or at least, those who seems to be the stronger). Instantly they began to go mad, and attacked the others. The corridor was now a mess, but at least he didn't have to take down all of them. He waited until there was only three left (one of his died, such a shame) and came into the fight to kill the closest two. The last one didn't stand a chance and took a dagger in the heart.

Arno triggered his Vision again. His now golden eyes widened when he saw an ally figure. Gold colour. Above him. In a big cell, Evie (or at least it must have been her, she probably was his one and only ally in the bloody country) was sitting, head bowed, on the floor. The main problem being, the corridor she was in was heavily guarded, even with all the trouble downstairs that made a lot of guards leave their posts. It was now or never. He had to save her.

He closed his eyes and took a deep, deep breath. Almost lying on the ground, he climbed the remaining stairs. That was it. Just a dozen guards to take down. Maybe a bit more. He checked the weapons. He would use the hidden blades more than the rest. He had a three-bullets-left pistol in his coat. His phantom blade. The now infamous dagger was back in her place, and probably useful. He reached for under his coat (again) and took out a smoke bomb. Old but gold. Always helpful, easy to stack and quite efficient. He threw it before him and it exploded with a loud noise. 

All the guards started to cough. He ran between all of them, as quickly as he possibly could, and attempted to take them all out before the smoke could clear. He killed two with his hidden blade, shot the one behind him with the phantom. He used the same double takedown for a second couple of men and threw his dagger in another's chest. The smoke was taking surprisingly long to disappear, which was pretty great for him; but as the number of guards shortened, it was becoming harder to find them. He groaned, throwing himself on what seemed like a guard figure and sliced his throat. He rapidly charged his phantom blade, searched for another target and finally introduced it to a man. That made eight men. He took out his firearm and shot two bullets, squinting regularly to see his enemies, and both of them found (with an incredible luck) their targets. Two guards knocked each other out trying to get out of the smoked area. He managed to find them with the sound and ended their lives in a second. Then the smoke cleared.

Arno had just the time to hear a revolver shot before feeling a stinging pain into his left shoulder. Taking back his dagger, he killed this remaining enemy by throwing it into his chest. He was relieved to see no one heard this whole fight (maybe they were all gone, upstairs). He fell to his knees, the bullet inside his body hurting like hell, and started to breathe slowly, trying to calm himself, eyes closed. It hurt. A lot.

He eventually managed to take back control and stood up. Triggering Eagle Vision again, he found Evie's cell. Seeing the door, she was probably in complete darkness in there. He turned around, searching for a bit of gold to find the key. He walked in one of the guard's direction (the one who shot him, how funny), taking the bunch of keys. He tried them all, and sighed of relief when the lock opened. At least he managed to do something good today. That was a first. He grabbed the handle and opened the heavy entrance. As soon as it was opened wide enough, someone jumped in his arms. Evie threw her arms around him, putting her head in the crook his neck. As happy as he was to see her, he hissed when she touched his shoulder. She took a step back.

"You're wounded."

"It's nothing." He shook his head and she decided not to insist.

"I'm so happy to see you. I thought you would leave me."

He smirked and took her back into his arms. "Wouldn't dream of it, _trésor_."

"How did you enter here?"

He didn't answer and instead turned to listen to the stairs. Nobody was coming as far as he could tell. He faced Evie and reached for the elements of her gauntlet, looking at her with a look saying _you'll need this_. Her eyes shone and she took everything. Now she had weapons, she felt far better.

They heard a great noise and shouting downstairs, all the way down. This wasn't good and they just had to hope everything was all right. Arno detached his eyes from Evie and rushed to the stairs as fast as he could, knowing she would follow. He didn't take the time to look at her surprised face when he said.

" _Merde!_ Come on, Jacob's down there!"

* * *

"God damn it, this one was persistent."

The dead body fell with a loud _stomp_ on the cold ground. Jacob cracked his neck and looked at his surroundings. Luckily, all of his Rooks were still alive, still standing, and relatively unharmed. Some of them were almost completely covered with bruises, but seemed to be all right anyway (probably adrenaline). The prison guards had been harder to kill than expected. They were actually well trained (which was quite understandable) and it had been a bit difficult.

At least half the prison guards were here, lying on the floor somehow, either dead or completely unconscious. Jacob's cane was divided, the internal sword covered in blood. So was his kukri. His hidden blade was still out and the revolver was empty. He had actually used everything to kill everyone. Nothing like a good fight. He grinned and took a breath, enjoying this moment of power and the proof of his superiority. He bent to pick up his weapons and wiped the blood off of them with one of the guards' outfit. Then he turned to his Rooks.

"Good job lads!"

But he was cut off by the sound of hurried footsteps coming from the stairs and they all took a defensive position. Only to be greeted by the apparition of Arno and Evie, the last following the former, who looked with visible surprise at the floor. Were they worried? That would be funny. But it wasn't Jacob's main problem right now. He let his cane fall on the floor and rushed to hug his sister, the other Assassin letting him pass (lucky for him). She smiled when he took her in his arms, and he sighed.

"Damn, Eve, you scared the hell outta me."

"I can't believe that." She smirked.

He let go of her, his hands still on her arms. "You Loverboy came back alone and covered in blood, how did you want me to react?!"

As they were talking, they couldn't see Arno, who gripped his left shoulder again. He started to breathe deeply without a sound, understanding even better why they always did it with stealth. A blade wound he could manage. A bullet buried in his shoulder was harder to accept. He closed his eyes, the sound of everyone (including the Rooks) speaking around him starting to sound loud. Really loud. Opening them again, he attempted to ask for help. He didn't. Instead, what came out of his mouth was a huff and a pitiful request causing everyone to stop the talking and look at him.

"Can we... Leave, now?"

Evie's eyes widened. "Oh my god, I forgot. Jacob, he's wounded, we have to go back."

"I'm... Fine, I just... Want to leave."

Jacob snorted, looking at him from bottom to top. "You don't look fine. Let's go."

He took back his cane and motioned for everyone to get out. They didn't run, unfortunately, as Evie was not in condition and Arno was wounded. The trip home was awfully long, and they barely managed to get through all the obstacles along the way, especially since witnesses had seen them enter the prison. Police was searching for them, and they guessed Templars were as well. All in all, they were in trouble because of the Frenchman. But the fact that he got wounded made for all the mess.

When they finally arrived in the Rook headquarters, it wasn't as calm as expected. Gang members were fighting, some for training, some for real. It was totally obvious from the way they looked at each other. And the fact that a lot of comrades made a circle around them. Fighting each other when they were supposed to heal or train. Great. An angry Jacob approached the improvised fighting pit, slowing his steps each time, and, with a death stare, passed between two Rooks. Said two men let him pass, scared of what the reaction might be. 

As soon as the boss stepped inside the circle, all cheering ended. The two fighters didn't even hear the fact that everyone went silent, until Jacob cleared his throat. Only then did they stop, eyes widened, completely covered in bruises and punches and some wounds, partly afraid to be punished in whatever way existed. 

Except the boss didn't _punish_. He _criticized_. He _belittled_.

"Look at you two. You should be training and what do you decide instead? Fight each other? Are you already tired of enemies, now you need to beat up allies?" Jacob shook his head. "This is childish. You're both children." He gave a look around. "And you're all no better for letting 'em do it."

He shook his head once more and took a step back, wanting to be with Evie again. He didn't make it half the way before a young Rook came and tried to get his attention with a weak " _Boss?_ ". He turned to face him.

"Hum, a man with a hood came a bit earlier and said to give you this." He was holding a little envelope, which he hold out with big eyes. "I didn't read it I swear!"

Jacob took the paper with a smile to reassure the boy and decided to read it. He then approached Arno. "Hey Loverboy, it's Judgment Day for you. Gotta go to the Brotherhood, the guy they sent is coming back."

He looked up again to see the man mutter some words he didn't understand. Then Evie decided to talk. "Can't we heal him before?"

"They want him now. Steal a carriage or something, you'll go faster."

"...And you're not coming."

"Nope. I have something to do first."

"And of course you're not going to tell us what it is."

"Surprise. Now go."

He watched as the two other Assassins left, and turned back to face his gang. He had one more thing to do. And he was not going to let this go.

Someone threatened and imprisoned his sister. No one was going away with it. He was going to find this Carroll, and make him eat his own fingers. But he would need the Rooks. Not all of them; but a good portion still. He was going to tear that manor apart brick by brick until he could find the man and kill him with great delight. And as he was on it, why not make a combo and manage to find the info Arno was seeking, so he would leave? Oh that was just the perfect plan. 

The entrance was all found, as he was going to storm in through the front door. They were actually all facing the place from the streets (him and almost all of his Rooks, because he needed a great force to succeed in this one). Sure, he was using the gang for personal purposes and not against the general oppression and capitalism. But it was only one time. He was the boss. He could do what the hell he wanted. His new target was a Templar. Technically, it counted. What he just decided to do (he had taken one long minute to think about it) was to raid the manor. Kill everyone in there. He cracked his knuckles. Asking his men to stay still, he climbed the rooftops to trigger Eagle Vision and check if the man was still in the manor. Who knew, he could have been fleeing.

As a matter of fact, the enemy was still here. In a hurry and visibly wanting to get out of the building as fast as possible, but he was here. The slight golden figure shouting _TARGET_. He grinned. Good. Jacob climbed back down and put in place a quick plan (he wasn't really one for plans), dividing the gang into groups taking each side of the house. He would go with the first. He named three "leaders" for the rest and clapped his hands. Now was the time. 

The great doorway was closed, but not locked. As if they needed to give him an easier access to his target. They might as well have greeted him, offered him a cup of tea and a meeting with the master. As he was the boss, and he needed to be quick, he let his men take care of the fighting (he had a great dose at Brixton anyway) and just walked straight to the entrance. He knocked out the guards waiting for him in front of the door, and, followed by most of his men, entered the manor. It was far more golden than he would have imagined. Everything here seemed to be stuck in the previous century. He used the Vision again and started to run to climb the stairs, motioning for the Rooks to be as quiet as possible.

It was so simple he almost couldn't believe it. The room had two exits. He decided to take the first one, coming from behind the target, waited for the gang to kill what remained of the guy's personal guard, and he entered.

Jacob was surprised to find him still searching something in his papers, opening drawers and making a mess. He took his cane out and made it spin a bit. Then he cleared his throat. Everything else was silent, except for the paper sounds and the heavy breathing. The Templar turned at the sound, awfully slow to respond, and his eyes filled with fear and almost tears when he saw the Assassin accompanied by his whole gang. He did try to escape by the second entrance, without a lot of hope, and only found more enemies. For sure, he was dead. Jacob put the tip of his cane on the man's shoulder blade, forcing him to kneel. It gave him (them) even more power because he could see how much his target didn't want to obey. But he still did. He held him there and started walking back and forth in the room.

"Carroll, isn't it? Pleased to meet you. Name's Jacob Frye."

"I know who you are, Assassin."

"I guess. You probably know why I am here, don't you then?"

The man started breathing faster. "I heard you freed your sister from Brixton."

"Thaaat's right. I am disappointed that you underestimated us like that. Thought you Templar were smarter." He saw Carroll gulp, probably scared of what he was going to endure. "See, I could kill you right now and be on my way thinking I've done enough for the day. But I have a tiny little problem. You see there's this... Friend of mine... Well not friend, really, but anyway. He's French, you probably know him. Word is you tried to kill him. So you know what he's looking for. If you would be so kind as to tell me where the information is, so he can be on his way too."

That ended the monologue. The victim started to tremble. "I... Don't have it anymore... Someone... Stole it from me."

Jacob sighed. There was definitely nothing good in this world. He was starting to think he would never see Loverboy get out of his country. He faked sorry eyes and put back his cane on the man's shoulder. Slowly, carefully, he slid the top of it out of the rest, revealing the little hidden sword. He gave the man a devilish smile, and prepared the path his blade was going to take.

"Then I believe your services are no longer needed."


	13. Passant par Paris

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH HELLO.  
> So yeah, it's been more than a while, actually. I'm sorry? Lots of things happened, including a big-ass writer block. November 13th happened, Syndicate on PC came up, then the DLC, work, this sort of things. Then here I am right now obsessed with Marvel because Civil War and Bucky Feels and I'm preparing another fic and all. Bref.  
> So since it's been a while I'm a bit rusty. At least half of this chapter was written before christmas, damn. And uh I'm seriously considering ending this fic with a major character death (OR SEVERAL, WHO KNOWS) because I'm a monster like that. If anyone's still reading, let me know what you think!  
> That's a really long chapter to excuse my behaviour but the next ones will probably be shorter.  
> Also the letter is in french because context. A link to the translation is hidden in the first letter.  
> There are probably a hell lot of errors in that but I just don't feel like going through the 7500 words just right now.
> 
> ALSO. WHAT'S WITH ALL THE HITS. It was so great seeing this fic still having kudos and comments and hits even without updates. I love you guys. Thank you.

"Wait!"

Jacob's arm froze, the hidden sword still up in the air ready to strike, and he tilted his head with raised brows. He didn't move an inch, but instead relaxed his grip on the weapon a bit, just so his victim would talk. Eyes fixed on the man, he waited (not without impatience) for him to speak. Before the anger could take control. The other, still shivering, his whole body trembling from fear, raised his hands and begged for mercy, with the conviction of having something he wanted. He stuttered while speaking, which annoyed the Assassin even more.

Carroll was weak, old and particularly good at being a victim, with the incredible talent of remaining utterly stupid. If he weren't though, Jacob wouldn't have found him in the manor. Coming back in your house when you knew you were a target was probably the dumbest idea ever. But, hey. He was a Templar. And with the way he was thinking, no wonder he wasn't one of the most powerful anymore. His family had had their time, apparently.

"You better speak because my patience has its limits and I have other things to do."

"I... I can... I can tell you - who it was? ...What he looked like!" Mouth still opened, Carroll was waiting for a positive answer. Oh how he would have it.

"Go on. And don't try to fool me."

"It was a child! I'm almost sure of it. He probably was something like eleven years old! I remember a group of children passing not far from me. But this one came really close, you know? And he was wearing mostly dark blue." Jacob winced a bit. Nothing in this was really helpful, but if it was a child? Surely Clara would know something.

"Thank you for your help, Mr. Carrolls. "

"Are you going to let me go now?"

The Assassin smiled. "No."

Without further talking and in a quick move, Jacob threw his arm (which hadn't moved during the whole conversation) in front of him, sinking his sword directly in the man's eyes. His victim screamed in pain and suffering, and some Rooks made a face of disgust when he took out the blade and sliced his throat. Some blood splashed and he let out a groan before wiping his weapon on the man's rich clothes.  
Jacob turned and looked at the room, not caring anymore about the man. He could definitely keep this place for himself. As luxurious as it was, the manor was nice. A bit too fancy, though. But he didn't have any real use for it, and apart from leaving it there to attract dust, he wouldn't do anything. The place would be abandoned. With the body of its owner inside. How beautiful. 

Knowing full well he was a sociopath right now for having this sort of thoughts, Jacob turned on his heel and started to walk away, patting some Rook shoulders while leaving (because they needed to know they did-a-good-job-lads) and decided to leave the place. The only thing he needed to do now was prepare for the next gang fight, and he sure had a lot of work for that. Strain was a vicious bastard who needed to be punished and he wasn't going to be gentle.

Reassembling his gang, Jacob went home, not without scaring some random strangers while leading so many strong men. He didn't want to tell Evie right now about what he learned, but he would have to. He needed to leave the Rooks and go to the Assassins headquarters. Right now Loverboy was (wounded) in the middle of an interview. Either his Brotherhood said he was a Templar, and he would have to die (and Jacob would have to take care of his sister for a while), or he was in fact an Assassin and needed to be taken care of. Because if he died, the friendship between the two Brotherhoods would become fragile. Their countries were not the best of allies, quite the contrary in fact; they didn't need to do the same errors.

Did he have to do something next? Surely with a bullet in his shoulder the Frenchman would not be all fresh and ready to go as quickly as he wanted. He would bet Evie would drag him into this. He would have to do the guy's job. Yippee. He sighed and, once back in his 'lair', put one of his best men in charge. 

Jacob wasn't in a hurry. He decided to steal a carriage, but would not push the horse to get there quickly. He walked calmly and got on a random one, pushing the driver who fell with a loud noise on the hard ground.

"Sorry mate, I need it." And flicked the reins.

The sun was shining again in London, a pretty beautiful day in fact. He had no idea what time it was, but the warm light was doing him good. People were smiling, gangs were calm. Oh how he wanted to get on the rooftops and take a nap. Sighing, he went a little faster. Change of mind: he wanted to get to the HQ now so everything could stop sooner. He was growing tired of waiting for the man to leave his country. His city. He stopped the carriage in front of a dark alley, and left it there for anyone to take it back. Careful not to be followed, he walked to finally be in front of the great door. He took a deep breath. 

"Here we go."

* * *

" _Ça fait mal, putain!_ "

Arno was talking too loud but he didn't care - nobody here could talk French anyway. It hurt like hell and he needed to make people understand it because no one seemed to care except for Evie. She was helping him with the blood that was spilling on the ground, leaving a track anyone could follow. One of the Rooks gave her (because she was his boss, not because he liked him, of course, what an idea) one of his layers of clothes. It was white and it was thin, but it would do. She lifted his hand from his shoulder gently and attempted to stop the bleeding with wrapping and pressing and knotting, at least for a bit. He needed proper care and, considering there wasn't an exit wound, they had to find someone who could take a bullet out of him.

Or most likely butcher him, he thought.

One of the gang members didn't wait for her to ask (or order) and stole the nearest carriage. He took the reins (one of his mates climbing as well just in case) and let the two Assassins climb in, far too slow; before ordering the grey horse to go full speed. He knew already where to go, it seemed, allowing his passengers to mind their business. Arno smiled weakly, and, as he liked to do when the situation was bad, came back to his sarcastic self.

"What a romantic trip throughout the city! I would have imagined it differently, but it's not like we can have everything we want." Evie rolled her eyes, but her look was sad.

"It's my fault. I'm sorry..."

"Until proven otherwise, it wasn't your mission that put you in prison, and you didn't force me to come and rescue you. I took a bullet because I failed to kill that guy quicker."

"Well if you forget this one, what you did was pretty badass." Arno cracked a smile at that.

"Yeah. People underestimate the power of smoke bombs. You should have seen how I crushed them on the other floors."

"I imagine." They both smiled at each other. This sort of conversation eased the pain (or at least made him forget it) and erased the tension in the atmosphere.

"For real, though. This part of the city is pretty beautiful. The lights are great." The trip was starting to be longer than expected, and soon all would be silent. None of them wanted this.

"So Arno. Tell me about Paris." She saw the Frenchman turn to look at her with surprise. Apparently he didn't expect this question. "What? We never talked about your country. Always London and how you think it's all dark. How is France?"

"Well... You know, now that I think about it, it's not so different from here. It's just... I feel like your city, or even your country, is all sadness and black, grey, most of the time. In Paris we're not afraid of colors yet. That's what struck me when I arrived." The funniest in all of this was that he didn't have anything else to say. On his first day he had been disappointed; now he didn't even care. He chuckled. "I obviously don't belong here in any way. I probably should just go home and hope they don't kick me out of the Brotherhood."

"Don't say that. You're an Assassin, we're all your brothers and sisters. You belong with us. And we'll find your papers, I swear."

"Sister, eh?" Arno smirked. "I never really liked this concept of brothers and sisters. We all say that and then some of us fall in love with each other and get married and it's like 'but we were like siblings'. Perhaps it's just me. It probably is."

Evie opened her mouth to talk but couldn't find the words. She understood what he meant (and what he was probably referring to), but she just couldn't say something that made any sense. "I... Never saw it like that."

Arno was suddenly inspired by what he just said. It helped him forget his pain. "But it's true, right? And when it's people you don't like? I see another Assassin in Paris and he's like, ' _J'ai une mission pour toi, mon frère_ ', mais je ne suis pas vraiment son frère!" Upon realizing he wasn't making any sense for the only person keeping him company, he looked up at her, clearing his throat. "I'm sorry. I'm just lost right now."

Evie smiled and didn't answer, for they were almost in front of the Brotherhood's headquarters. She was beginning to feel sick, as the stress and guilt were both growing bigger in her chest. She was the one who told them everything. And what if he didn't pass the trial? They weren't in front of the door when the carriage stopped, and both Assassins were suddenly confused. Evie opened the coach's door, only to see a member of the Brotherhood standing in the way. They weren't allowed to go further. They would have to walk.

She turned back to look at Arno with a sorry smile, and he sighed, understanding what was happening. Pressing a hand on his wound, he followed her out, and endured the glares he was given with a mental strength he didn't know he had. At least not in his state. Then it was raised brows and eyes shifting on his shoulder and right hand and judging glances and, above all, pain. He tried to keep his back straight, to hide how humiliated he felt, to stay dignified, slowly failing to do so. He wasn't anything anymore. He was far from home, far from everyone he knew, hated by most of them he encountered, accused to be a Templar. Despite trying to not show how hurt he was deep inside, he knew he couldn't maintain the illusion; the only thing he decided to look at was the ground. He silently thanked Evie for not saying anything, directing him so he walked in the right direction. His way was guarded by Assassins, and he needed her more than anything right now.

They entered the building, finding themselves surrounded by who was left of the Brotherhood. Apparently everyone was in holidays now that something that great was happening. The Frenchman raised his head, and with a quick glance scanned his audience. A man was standing all the way to the front of the hall, speaking with the Grandmaster. Both men stopped talking and looked at him with worry when he attempted to cross the whole room. Henry especially seemed to reconsider the idea of a trial, and came quickly to ask for an explanation. When they were in front of each other, he turned to Evie with a questioning look. Arno didn't let her talk and decided to answer first.

"Long story short, she was sent to prison, I took a bullet to save her and everything is my fault. Can we get the trial done with? That way you can decide if I am worthy of breathing or if you must kill me right there. Thanks."

He didn't get any answer except a deep sigh and a hand gesture showing him a large chair, which he sat on. Evie left him there, not sure about whether or not she should stay with him or go sit and watch. Biting her lower lip, she obeyed when Arno told her she should not _worry, it'll be alright_ and took a chair from which she could observe everything.

Green came back to his previous place, and started to talk. 

"Remember that this is not a real trial. We are here to listen to Mason here. He just came back from France. Everybody quiet." Said Mason cleared his throat a bit before he started to speak. And, oh good graces, decided to tell the whole story in details.

"So, hum, seems like I'm going to say everything. I was taken in a carriage when I arrived in France by boat and made the trip without any Assassin with it. I arrived in Paris quicker than I would have imagined and was greeted by a member of the Council, apparently." Arno raised a brow. Oh really? The Council decided to welcome him like that? "They're really polite and friendly, and they spoke English to me."

The Frenchman was already losing patience. God damn it. "That's great, really. Did you stop by the Café, too? I ordered some tea for us to serve, last time, you could have given you British opinion. _Nom de Dieu_ , I have a fucking bullet in my shoulder, can't we just speed things up?!"

But the other Assassins weren't having it. Seeing him wounded was apparently too great. Brothers, she said. One of them asked out loud. "How's the headquarters?"

"It's... At least thrice as big as here. Impressive. And really well decorated. You know, French." Hey, what did he mean by that?! "Only problem I had there was a man I met. Strangely clothed and had brown hair. Called me something I think wasn't that nice. Asked me a lot of questions about Dorian and especially how we treated him. I think he also threatened me but I'm not sure."

The man seemed so lost and confused it made Arno laugh, knowing full well everyone heard him because of how loud he was. He smirked. "No doubt, that's Bellec. I could be sorry you had the misfortune of meeting my Mentor, but... I'm not."

This seemed to not please the guy, who took out from inside his coat a piece of paper. No, an envelope. "He also disagreed with your council when I was given this." he said with a satisfied grin.

Arno's temporary smile and sarcastic behaviour instantly faded. That was not good. At all. That the council decided to write him something was already worth worrying - but if Bellec fought with the others, it was definitely bad. Now he was frightened. 

"...What's in it?"

"No idea. You're doing the same face your Mentor had when they started writing it, so I assume it's bad news."

The other Assassins in the room could see or imagine said face. The Frenchman was probably blank by now, eyes almost wide and heavily breathing. He was afraid and he didn't have the strength to hide it. His eyes shifted to the left, searching for Evie who looked at him with all the compassion in the world. After all, he told her, didn't he? _Hope they don't kick me out of the Brotherhood_. She had been so confident. And for a little while, he had been too. But now, oh now, the chances he had of not living in the streets when coming back were as big as a mouse. He could have cried, but he wasn't that weak... Or was he? He came back to the world of the living when the Grandmaster cleared his throat and talked.

"Can we now talk about what's really important? The Templar part?" he said, glaring at Mason.

"Oh, huh, yes sure. Well as they explained he is a born-Assassin, except his father was killed. They didn't have any control whatsoever on who would take him, so he was adopted by a man, who just so happened to be a Templar Grandmaster. François de La Serre. They also said this was frequently used against him. Apparently there are rumours saying De La Serre knew where Dorian came from. From what I understood the man was killed and Arno went to prison because he was believed to be the murderer. There he met Bellec and they escaped and he became an Assassin." The man looked up, and watched as all his comrades stared at him with surprise. "What? I have a good memory and the one who explained was very talkative." 

But Arno wasn't listening. Whatever the man was saying couldn't be even slightly more interesting than the letter his shaking hand was holding. Still pressing the other one on his shoulder, he attempted to open the envelope without it, clearly failing to do so. He took a deep breath, hoping that would stop all the shaking, but it clearly wasn't working at all. Never had he ever felt that much stress. He usually was pretty calm, took everything the wiser he could. But they were talking about his life here. 

The Brotherhood was his home and his family and if he was kicked out, he would have no more friends.

Then again, they sent him here. Alone. Would they go as far as to kick one of their best for a failed mission? Not a regular mission, but still. He didn't become a Master by the force of God. He worked for it. He was good at his job. He was still shaking, though, because he didn't want to lose everything he worked so hard to obtain. This title was the proof he could do something of himself.

Before he could try opening the letter again, even thinking of letting his blood flow to have both his hands, fine gloved fingers took out the piece of paper for him, placing the envelope on another chair. Looking up, he saw Evie giving him a weak smile. She sat beside him and gave a quick look to the letter. Read it, her whole body said.  
Unaware of his surroundings, the Frenchman didn't hear the sudden silence. And he didn't see how everyone was watching him as he started to read.

> [F](http://pastebin.com/Retn5N9y)rère Dorian,  
>  Alors que nous avons reçu une lettre de la part du GrandMaître anglais et nous apprêtons à accueillir son messager, le Conseil souhaite te faire part d'une nouvelle importante. Nous allons bien sûr confirmer que tu es l'un des nôtres, digne de confiance et dévoué à la cause. Cependant, nous avons déjà appris ton échec lors d'une tentative de récupération des informations. Tu sais tout comme nous à quel point il est important de les récupérer au plus vite. Mais le temps se faisant long, nous craignons qu'il ne soit déjà trop tard.  
>  Notre forte confiance en tes capacités, ajoutée à ta préférence du travail en solitaire, nous avait permis de t'envoyer seul à Londres. Cette confiance commence maintenant à faiblir avec le manque de nouvelles positives. Le Conseil, après un vote, a donc pris une décision que tu trouveras sans doute trop dure, tout comme Bellec. Tu as trois jours pour retrouver ces documents. Audelà, nous te rapatrierons en France et tu perdras ton titre de Maître Assassin.  
>  Paix et sérénité,  
>  Frère Beylier.

He was looking at the letter with a shocked face, wanting so much to tear it in pieces it filled him with mixed emotions. If he'd been alone, he would have cried. So they did it. He failed one mission. ONE. And they were putting his most precious thing in the world, what he worked so hard to achieve, in danger.

Then again, the French Brotherhood was known to be one of the most severe of them all, if not the actual worst.

He lifted up his head, eyes empty, so much that even the asshole Mason stopped talking. He could feel it, he could hear it: everyone was looking at him. With anticipation, he thought. Every single person in the room was watching him as he finished reading his important letter. The silence was heavier than ever, and the Frenchman's breath was now slow. Almost stopping. Like he tried to stay calm while very much wanting to break everything around him.

The tensed atmosphere was broken by none other than Evie herself, whose voice sounded like a whisper - as if she didn't want to break the silence too violently.

"Arno, what does it say?"

Her concern was heartbreaking. She had been the only person in the whole bloody country to help him. She had trusted him. She worried about him. She didn't care that he was a stranger and only treated him like a human being. And with all of that, he always had the feeling he didn't give enough back, he wasn't respecting her enough. He just didn't know how to thank her for her infinite kindness. What did he do for her, except kiss her on London's rooftops, just to have her ambushed and put in prison by accident ten minutes after? 

He just wasn't worthy of such a woman. She'd be better off without him, no doubt.

Still, he answered.

"I'm being punished. My... My title is at stake."

"Because you're failing _one_ mission?!"

He wanted to laugh. Because she could not and she would not understand. The British Brotherhood wasn't so hard on their recruits, and one look at the Grandmaster here was enough to make it visible. They were just not the same. Same grand worldwide family, same goal, same motto; but not the same methods.

That, and the great reputation the French had of being unfriendly and all.

"This is not just _any_ mission, Evie. They sent me here because they trusted me and my skills. This is what made me a Master Assassin - and it's fading."

Then a random voice behind him decided to interfere. "What skills, ye seen yer shoulder mate? That's novice work."

Despite it hurting, Arno quickly turned to face the crowd. He had no trouble finding the smirk in the middle of it, shouting _I did it_. And all of his anger came out like it had been waiting for this for decades.

"Yes because I'm _sure_ you've never been wounded in battle before. Oh, WAIT." He scanned the man's whole body, not even trying to hide his judgmental look. "I bet you've never even been in a real battle yet, have you?" Everyone was shocked, but he knew it was the truth. He could _see_ it. "You know, this thing when you have no choice but to fight in the open, often surrounded. Hey, who knows, perhaps you're this one guy who hides or flees when the danger becomes too high."

The other tried to keep his pride at any cost. "Well... Nothing tells us you've ever been in one."

And this was it. The final straw. "How do you think I got to be Master? DO YOU THINK ALL OF THE BLOOD ON MY CLOTHES COMES FROM MY LONE SHOULDER?! _Connard!_ "

He hissed in pain, turning back in his seat and hitting his back in the process. It was all silent again. So he made a decision.

"I have three days to finish the mission. It's useless being here, I have to search." As he started to stand up, Evie pushed him back quickly in his chair.

"You have to rest and heal," came her snappy answer.

"Three days, Evie!"

"Your _life_ , Arno!"

He didn't know how to answer to that. She had a point, but he just... Had to go. "I can't lose my rank, Evie. It's all I have."

She took a deep breath, and for a moment he thought she was going to let him leave. "I'll go." She stopped his answer before he could think about one. "No discussion. You stay here and recover from your wound. I'll search for you. You will not lose your title, alright?"

"You would do that... For me?" He looked at her like a puppy being pet and he was so cute at this moment she failed to resist.

"No." She leaned towards him and gave him a quick peck on the lips, causing him to jump in surprise. He did not pull off, though. "I _will_ definitely do it."

And he was still speechless, much like the rest of the room. Nobody seemed to believe what they had just witnessed. The Frenchman blinked a few times in order to come back to reality. As he did, the stinging pain in his shoulder came back, too.  
Everyone had already forgotten about the so-called trial.

Meanwhile, he was shining with sweat. He blinked again, more quickly this time, obviously trying to stay in the world of the living. "I'm not... feeling very well." he exhaled loudly.

Arno slowly looked down on his left arm. He tried to pull the cloth off, only realizing just how soaked it was when it stuck to his coat. He had lost a lot of blood already. And he knew what was coming next. No need to tell him what he risked with this loss of blood.

Soon, he would faint.

He didn't manage to finish thinking about it, though, because as soon as he did, his arm fell at his side, letting the red liquid pour freely. He had enough time to feel people grip him and shout some inaudible orders as he was slipping off his chair; his eyes closed, and Evie's voice was the last thing he heard before passing out.

"Arno!"

* * *

"Did _anyone_ go get a surgeon?"

It was the first thing Jacob heard when he entered the Assassin headquarters. The crowd was divided in two: a part was calm, discussing random things; the other part, far smaller, was in stress, running everywhere, fetching objects, tools, whatever they needed.

Evie would obviously be on this side. It's with raised brow that he went through the room. He quickly discovered people were rushing for the infirmary; and was surprised by the sight of- oh wait, no, he wasn't. Loverboy was lying on the main table, obviously unconscious and more covered in blood than ever. He looked terrible, to be honest. Henry-fucking-Green in person was directing the team, giving orders. No doubt he didn't want to send a corpse back to France. He was asking someone to press the wound, another to clean the tools, one to look at the main room to see if a doctor was coming.

Meanwhile, Evie was at Arno's side, muttering things Jacob couldn't understand from where he stood. He could read on her lips something like _Don't you die_ or _Don't you dare_. Not like he cared. As she hadn't seen him yet, it inspired him a great arrival joke.

"Aaah, did he finally decide to die?" he said loudly, grinning, arms open.

He shouldn't have. The slap she gave him was so sudden and powerful, he didn't see it coming. He lost balance and almost fell on the floor, hand on his cheek and eyes wide. When she spoke, it sounded like a mix of sadness, stress and anger.

"Jacob Frye, you will shut your mouth and leave this room. Ever since he arrived you've been nothing but a selfish asshole trying to ruin his life. He never did _anything_ to you. You just decided you hated him. If you had taken just a bit of time to meet him, you would know he's a good man." Now she had tears in her eyes.

Her brother still tried to defend himself. "I helped him _twice_."

"Yes? Remind me what you helped him for? That's right. You agreed the first time because it gave you and your gang the City. The second time it was because I was in prison. You would never help him on your own just like that. There will always be another reason." He opened his mouth to protest again, but she didn't allow him. "Get out. I don't want to see you."

And he wanted to tell her he had a lead, he wanted to stay; but she didn't want him to. And despite everything, he loved his sister and would respect her decision. Silently, he backed off and left the room without a word.

But he still had the information Carroll gave him. He could go and investigate himself or he could find a way to let Arno and Evie know about it. Now it seemed to him that both of these options were selfish. Either he did everything himself or he let them do it all, that's what it truly meant, right?

In the end he decided to do both, meaning he would tell them - but be available to help anytime.

He took some left paper on the Grandmaster's desk and attempted to write for Evie. Surely she would accept a message, right? Folding the paper in four, carefully, he asked a brother to give her.

"Don't tell her it's from me."

And so Evie, holding Arno's hand, could do nothing but stare in surprise when one random Assassin came to give her a piece of paper she had to read. Sighing, she took it and opened the message. The writing was awful.

> _Carroll talked. Apparently a kid has it. About eleven, wearing dark blue. Probably should go see if Clara knows something else. If you need help you'll know where to find me._

She stared at the paper longer than expected. Of course it was Jacob. Of course he had found a way to talk to her without being there. But she blocked on one part. _Carroll talked_? So that's what he had done instead of coming here? Ask for information? Or perhaps he just went to take revenge and happened to make the man talk. Knowing her brother, the bastard was probably dead and (not) buried by now. Oh how she could imagine the scene and, curiously, she liked it.

Now the important part was that he had a lead. And considering she was a good friend of Clara, she would no doubt get help from her.

A sudden gasp and almost cry behind her got Evie out of her thoughts. 

Unfortunately, Arno was awake again and would obviously feel everything while having his shoulder butchered.

Where was the bloody surgeon anyway?

She put Jacob's note in her pocket and came back at Arno's side. His wide eyes said it all: the pain was difficult to bear. His breath was so heavy it could probably be heard all the way across the next room.

"Get him out of his coat and top, quickly." was the first thing Henry said after that.

They should have done this way earlier, she thought. She helped unbuckle the belts (and hell they were many) and watched as they took the blue coat off, followed by his white shirt. His chest was as damp as his dark brown hair, and she didn't realize she was staring at it. Nor that she was biting her bottom lip (because that wasn't an ordinary sight, especially in her life). She was awaken by the very man she was... checking out.

"See something you like?" he smirked, trying real hard to keep his voice steady. She made it clear it wasn't funny. "Alright I take it back. Don't be angry?"

He gave her the puppy look again and she tried to resist. She really did. "I'm not angry, I'm worried. How can you even make jokes in a moment like this?"

"It helps, thinking about something else. A bit." he smiled. "You didn't answer my question, if I may remind you..."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, shut up, _Loverboy_."

He snorted when he heard the surname. "I'll take that as a yes, _trésor_."

She shook her head, giving up, when the main door opened with a loud noise. A man in a blouse followed by two Assassins entered the headquarters. This one had come here before, not even impressed by the place, and didn't lose time. He quickly stepped into the infirmary and pushed everything to put his own tools on a table. He had thick black glasses and probably hadn't shaved in a week. He turned to look at Arno's bleeding shoulder, and winced.

"I took the liberty of borrowing water and soap." he pointed to another Assassin coming with a bucket. "I'll need some tissues, too. I don't have ether on me, so it is going to hurt, young man. I suggest you find something to bite very hard."

Arno vigorously shook his head. "Sorry but I would prefer not to choke on whatever they'll give me."

"As you wish. It will be painful, you've been warned."

"It already is, doc."

"What is buried in your flesh is a bullet. Make it get out of you will be another sort of pain."

The doctor then attempted to rub is hands in the water, washing as best as he could. He reached into his case and took out large pliers and a fine scalpel. Evie slipped her gaze to watch Arno clench his teeth and take a shaky breath, obviously terribly frightened. Nobody could mock him, though, because these things did look scary. She heard _je le savais_ before the surgeon took a bottle of alcohol out of his case. Imbibing a thick tissue with it, he used it to clean the pliers. The Frenchman turned to face her as best as he could.

"You should probably let go of my hand, or else I can't guarantee I won't crush yours."

"I'm not afraid of that."

"I am."

Speechless, she opened her hand, letting his fall back on the table.

"Would you all take some steps back to give us some space?"

As surprising as it could be, nobody left. Everyone stayed in the room, glued to the walls, and Evie even felt Henry pass an arm around her shoulder, with a smile saying _He will survive_.

As the scalpel slowly approached his shoulder, Evie couldn't help but think she should have put a fucking knife in this idiot's mouth. She saw him take a deep breath, and do the only thing she wouldn't have thought about, to distract himself.

Singing.

It started as a whisper. The doctor was oblivious to it and nobody understood anything; but he sang anyway.

_Passant par Paris..._

And the scalpel entered his wound, cutting a rather small line down. She could see Arno's chest going up and down far quicker than five seconds earlier. 

_Vidant la bouteille..._

Spinning the tool, the same cut was done, up this time, to apparently open a bit more. Taking a blade wound was already painful, but being cut voluntarily, that seemed to hurt.

But the doctor was still cutting and Arno was still singing, obviously trying not to shake too much. He was in pain and Evie's shoulder was starting to sting in support.

_Un de mes amis... Me dit à l'oreille... Bon... Bon..._

Even his voice was shaking now, and she saw the doctor reach into the wound to open it even more. Oh she had killed people and she had been injured a lot; but not that much. This was something else entirely. The bullet couldn't be left there and they were putting his life in danger. She was dying inside. Henry pressed her shoulder even more. He knew.

 _Le bon vin m'endort_ , he hissed, _l'amour me réveille..._

Apparently satisfied with what he was seeing, the surgeon reached behind him and took the feared pliers. Closed at first, he slowly opened them once in the cut. Arno gasped again and possibly choked on his own saliva. That was the ugliest thing the room had ever seen and Evie could see the look of disgust on their faces as the Frenchman was almost crying.

_Prends garde à toi, on courtise ta belle..._

And at this moment, he turned to look at her. Whatever the song was saying made him think about her. His empty red eyes pierced through her emotions, and Evie saw him look at Henry's hand on her shoulder; before he jumped and faced the ceiling again. The doc had started digging into his flesh, now searching for the bullet. She looked at the table, at _her_ Loverboy (was she becoming possessive?), lonely in the middle of the room, at his fists closed now as if he wanted to press the juice out of something.

His whole body was tensed and it certainly couldn't be helping his healer.

So she got out of Henry's grasp and walked slowly, reaching out to take his hand. She waited for him to open it and he, with a bit of surprise, slipped it in hers, tangling their fingers; all along looking at her with a now terrified look. No hiding needed. He continued his song in a low and soft voice, not once blinking or shifting his gaze.

_Courtise qui voudra, je me fie en elle..._

At last Arno's body seemed to relax, just as the doctor stopped digging. He closed his tool again and smirked.

"There's the little bugger." and turned to the closest Assassin. "We don't have time nor tools... Find a fire and heat a small blade for me."

As the man did what he was asked, the tired patient took a deep breath when he felt the bullet being taken out of his body. As expected, he involuntarily crushed Evie's hand while suffering- but she didn't flinch or move an inch. She however watched the source of all their current problems coming into their line of sight. The golden metal was covered in dripping blood and in an awfully good state. It was pretty big for a pistol bullet and she couldn't even imagine how painful it had been to be pierced by this thing.

Arno was shaking again and couldn't help but take a look at it. He had not forgotten the fact that his wound was still in need of being closed, though. After what seemed like an eternity, the gone Assassin came back with a glowing red dagger. The doctor didn't take time to mentally prepare the man he was- well, torturing, let them be honest. No, he instantly pinched the wound to stick both sides to one another, and applied the hot steel on the skin. Unprepared and exhausted, the Frenchman, couldn't restrain his reactions now: and he screamed so loudly the outside world probably heard him.

The sound and even the smell of burning skin was in the whole room, and the disgusted looks on everyone's faces weren't even discreet.

At long last (after another eternity) the surgeon was finished, and the screams were replaced by heavy breath and closed eyes and chills and falling hand as Arno slowly tried to recover his senses.

"That is going to leave a scar, young man, and I can't guarantee your survival. I did what I could." 

He took out a big roll of gaze and some of the Assassins came to help the patient on a sitting position. He did what was asked, not once disobeying or trying to lie back. He didn't move when the doctor wrapped his shoulder as he could, to prevent the bleeding if the wound ever reopened.

Henry was the one to approach and, obviously, pay the man for his services. "Thank you for coming, sir."

"Next time find a way to bring him to me so I can make him sleep. I'm going to spend the rest of the day haunted by these bloody screams." And with that, he was gone.

Most of the room decided to go back to work, definitely not interested in bothering the stranger anymore. Whether it was respect for what just happened or because they didn't want to suffer Evie's wrath was a mystery.

She was still at his side, worried look not yet gone, watching as his breath steadied slowly. He still looked exhausted and barely able to stand, but at least he was alive and awake. And apparently, wasn't affected in terms of character.

He smirked. "Easy enough." he couldn't be serious, even in this situation. Sometimes he reminded her of Jacob.

She rolled her eyes. "Guess the sarcastic part of you can't be hurt."

"Oh but that's how you like me, _trésor_." he grinned. "Can I have my top back or do I have to stay bare-chested?"

"Afraid the amount of blood on your shirt is a bit too much, it's only good for trash now."

His crooked smile was as exasperating as it was attractive. "You know, if you don't want me to wear anything you can just say it."

She sighed. "If you weren't already hurt I would slap you. You know that, right?"

He pouted. "You wouldn't dare."

It was her turn to smile. "Oh yes I would." and she laughed as he pouted even more. "C'mon, up. Let's get you to bed."

"...Just me, alone?" he raised a brow.

Her eyes widened and he grinned in triumph. "Stop it, Arno. Not funny. Let's go."

Helping him walk (and damn, he was heavier than he looked) she carried one of his arms and went with him to his quarters. His room was dark (and cold) and she dropped him onto the mattress. He groaned. Obviously he didn't want to sleep, and Evie _knew_ what he wanted to do. But he would _not_ go out there, even if she had to attach him to the bed.

He looked up and opened his mouth to talk, but quickly closed it when he saw the sharp look she was giving him. Apparently understanding he was never going to change her mind, he went to lie down on the bed and she seemed satisfied.

"Now I'm going after your thing. You stay here and rest." she smiled when he nodded and turned on her heel to walk out of the room. 

It sounded like a whisper and she almost didn't hear it, but Arno called her once more. When she faced him, he seemed embarrassed. Gone, the sarcasm and the teasing.

"Hey, hum..." he bit his lower lip. "Before you go and put yourself in possible danger for my stupid face, can I... Like, get a kiss?"

He closed his eyes, no doubt wondering what the hell he just did. Evie was wondering if she should accept or not. She already did it about an hour ago, on her own, and before. But this was different. There was the rooftop and the quick thing to reassure him but he was actually _asking_ her. A full-grown man bare-chested and totally handsome was looking at her with puppy eyes -he really needed to stop doing that, by the way- and asking her for a kiss. Just like that.

She weighed her options and really, Evie, what was she expecting to find as 'against' arguments?

She went back and kneeled so she could face him right. He didn't move, unsure what to do next, his hands gripping the edges of the mattress. Not wanting to touch his chest (because he was hurt and because she would never be able to pull off), she cupped his cheeks with her hands - and with a smile, approached over-so-slowly so their lips could touch. She instantly felt his body relax when she came even closer, rising a bit so she was almost standing straight. Head up, he reached for her arms and barely touched her, caressing the thin fabric of her sleeves with the tip of his fingers.

They were kissing like lovers when one had to go to war; which was pretty much the same situation. She finally pulled off, unconsciously letting her hands fall on his neck while he seemed happier than he should have been. She sighed.

"You need to stop giving me this stupid look with puppy eyes because that is not going to end well. And I know you're doing it on purpose." she almost whispered.

"You're encouraging me now." he smirked. "Good luck."

She let her hands slip from his bare skin and backed off, looking down, before exiting the room. Once nobody could see her, she shook her head and leaned against the wall for a second. What was happening to her? What the _hell_ was she doing? Her father had taught her: never let personal feelings interfere with- but she wasn't feeling anything right? That wasn't feelings. She didn't feel. But then what was it? She mentally slapped herself. Focus. And headed for the door to the outside.

"This man is going to be the death of me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT  
> The song Arno sings to distract himself is an old french shanty named "Passant par Paris" (obviously)  
> Talks about wine and love, the last two verses basically saying that "someone's courting your love" but "I trust her".


	14. Last stand & Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHAT'S THAT? A NEW CHAPTER? HERE?  
> Jesus fucking Christ, it's been more than a year. Are people still reading this? What about those who started it in 2015? Anyway, I'm really sorry about that. I have no excuse (actually, I have too many, that's the problem). ALTHOUGH, you can blame at least two months on Misha Collins' stupidly good-looking/cute-as-hell face, because he's the reason I binged the 12 seasons of Supernatural in 58 days (not even sorry).
> 
> This fic was the hardest fucking thing to write. I'm never starting a multichapter out of nothing again. It's one of the reasons why this is the last chapter. I actually feel like it's not even that good? It's shorter than the last one, too :( Still, I hope you like it. I'm rather satisfied with my ending (remember when I wanted to kill everyone? yeah, me neither), I hope you will be too.
> 
> It's been a helluva ride for me, hope some of you still like this story. Much love, and enjoy ♥
> 
> (please ignore the eventual typos for now, it's late and I don't have a beta reader)
> 
> Characters belong to Ubisoft.

Arno wasn't expecting visit. Despite what it looked like, he was still suffering and therefore couldn't manage to sleep. He was lost in thought instead, lying down on his bed trying to relax. Still wincing at times.  
So it came as a surprise when not one person but at least ten entered the dormitories. He didn't see them as much as he heard them, awfully loud for Assassins. He sat up and (painfully) triggered his Eagle Vision. Yup. That was a lot of people.

What he didn't understand, though, was when they all started whispering before his door, all coming to a stop.

A man he recognized as the guy he had destroyed before passing out was the first to dare look into the room.

"Stalking, are you?" Arno said with raised brows.

"No, we, uh..." and the man gestured for his group to come help him. "We wanted to, apologize."

"...Apologize."

"Yah, we're sorry for, treating you that way," they said, trying to look at anything but him.

Arno tried to contain himself. "You do realise I had to get shot for you to respect a human being?"

They all seemed so guilty he almost pitied them. Almost.

"If it's instant forgiveness you're expecting, don't get your hopes up. I hope the next stranger will get a better welcome than I did."

He couldn't believe he was getting excuses. After the way they treated him, he had expected peace, but certainly not this.  
He shot them a tired glare; everyone understood the message and went off to mind their own business, leaving him sighing on his bed slightly puzzled. What had just happened?

* * *

"Evie! I was looking for you!"

The Assassin turned back, only to see the very child she had been searching for and gave the girl a faint smile.

“Clara. I wanted to talk to you too. What is it?”

“A group of children has been taken by Templars! We need your help.”

Evie’s smile instantly faded. Why were Templars taking children prisoners? She quickly debated in her head. Arno had three days. Clara’s problem was immediate. She could help her first.

“Where did they take them?”

“You tell me. Where are Lucy Thorne’s headquarters?”

The Assassin instantly knew where to look. They had been tracking the woman for a while now, and discovered fairly quickly that she barricaded herself in the Tower of London. Not that the Templar was hiding it.

“I’ll find them. Do you know why they took them?”, she asked.

“I think one of them has information they want,” said the girl.

Evie closed her eyes. Of course. “And I think I know what sort of information.”

“Really?”, Clara asked, before understanding dawned on her face. “Is it what Arno came for? Why are you doing this, is he alright?”

“He’s hurt. But it’ll be fine.”

The Assassin nodded, and assured her young friend she would go and fetch everything. The Tower of London it was.

Many royal guards were posted everywhere, but fortunately didn’t seem to be affiliated with the Templars.  
Just normal guards doing their daily job. She didn’t want to kill them and decided to infiltrate the place instead.

The Tower was a fortress, and entering was practically impossible. Still, using her climbing skills, she used the rooftops to have a better view, before spotting what she was looking for: an open door, right in front of her eyes. Smirking, she quickly distracted the guards and rendered them all unconscious (or dead) to make her way in the stairs. The short corridor in front of her should probably have been crawling with Templar guards.

But nobody was home.

Frowning, she stayed crouched and continued to walk, carefully opening a metal door to make sure it didn’t creak. Sure enough, hidden behind random boxes and pillars, she found them all regrouped in a large open room, listening intently to Lucy Thorne in person.

The Templar was arguing with the highest ranking man in her flock, and the Assassin saw behind her a file, which seemed to be the actual center of attention.

“I don’t care about the children,” Lucy said, obviously irritated. “Release them, do whatever you want, I don’t need any of them.”

“Still, ma’am, I don’t understand why we need to guard this stack of paper so much. Do you really need so many men here?”

Thorne’s eyes were full of raging fire. “The French promised us an _army_ in exchange for these. So yes, I need so many men to guard it until it departs tomorrow,” she snapped. “Do you not want to see these Rooks finally taken care of?”

Evie gasped, slapping a hand on her own mouth in order to stay silent. That was it. Arno’s job proved to be much more important than anticipated.  
She didn’t listen to the rest of the Templar’s speech, instead making her way to the other side of the room. There, she found cells… and Clara’s allies. The kids were intelligent enough and didn’t make any noise when they saw her, careful not to draw attention to themselves as she easily let them out.

“Are you all good?”, she whispered, only to be met with nodding head. “Can you find your way out or do you need me?”

“We’re going to be fine, they’re all with Miss Thorne. Thank you, Miss Frye,” one of the boys answered, voice as low as hers.

She gave them a smile, making her way up when they went down, and quickly escaped the Tower the same way she’d entered. Only one place to go. Jacob would be useful after all.

Climbing on an empty carriage, the reins made a loud whipping sound when she ordered her horse to move at full speed. When she arrived at the Rooks’ headquarters, she jumped off her seat without even stopping the mare and ran quickly to find Jacob. The two gang members guarding the entrance let her pass without a word, and she thankfully found her brother a few feet from there.

He stopped his talking when he saw his sister, approaching her with a worried look on his face and taking her arm. 

“Eve are you okay? What happened?”

“I need you,” she said, still breathless from the effort and the stress. “I need your gang, we have to attack now!”

“Deep breath, Evie,” he answered, nodding slowly as she started to calm down. “What happened?”

“The French Templars. Arno’s mission,” she blurted out. “is a lot more important now. Lucy Thorne has it, and she plans on sending the information to them in exchange for an army. They’re going to help her destroy us, Jacob, all of us.”

Her brother’s face became serious all of a sudden, and she just noticed the Rooks around them, who had been regrouping after seeing their second boss’ distress. All of them were glancing at each other, but the worry quickly began to fade and determination made its way into their eyes.

Jacob took a deep breath. “So what’s the plan? Attack now, or wait for tonight?”

She gulped, trying to focus. The cover or the night would be a good idea; but on the other hand, the sooner the better.

“She’s in the Tower of London. We’re going to need all the Rooks to make a diversion. She has a lot of men,” she said, eyes closing. “But if you all take the fight outside, it might draw most of them to you and I can sneak in to get the papers back and hopefully kill her.”

He nodded, followed by the entire gang, still listening to her.

“I think dusk might be a good time to strike. She won’t get out, it’s too dangerous, so she’ll barricade herself in her tower. I can take whatever she has waiting for me.”

“I’m sure you can,” he told her with a smile. “Alright gang, you heard her! Get ready!”

A collective shout of agreement was heard before they all scattered.

“Don’t worry Evie, we’ll get them.”

She certainly hoped so.

The plan was simple. Attack. Infiltrate. And yet Evie had never been this nervous on a mission before. 

Jacob, on the other hand, felt pretty confident. He trusted his Rooks and his skills, and the idea of being victorious over the annoying Thorne was the best thing he’d heard all day. The gang had scattered to get to destination so as to not attract too much attention. Some were on foot, others were coming in carriages. All of them ended up standing in front of the Tower’s main entrance.

Two guards were standing there, presumably supposed to not let intruders in. Their resolved stare melted like ice in the sun, however, when the entire Rooks gang appeared in front of their eyes. Since they didn’t seem to be the primary target, they both fled without further thinking.

Jacob entered by the main entrance like a knife in soft butter, followed eagerly by his men. It took all of three seconds for a guard to see them and run to the nearest alarm, alerting the entire army inside. The Rooks kept walking until they were in the middle of the courtyard, and all took a fighting stance.

The Assassin cracked his neck, getting his kukri out.

“Let the fun begin,” he whispered, right before the first wave of Templar fighters came raining down on them.

He knew his sister was watching from afar, waiting for the good moment to enter the game. More men were coming out of the buildings, slowly but surely emptying them. Jacob fought smoothly compared to the raw brutality of his men, taking several enemies at once, using them to knock out the others. His kukri flew in some heads, hidden blade cutting a few throats, brass knuckles leaving impossible bruises on lips and cheeks.

He dodged punches from brutes, ducked in front of faster fighters, and his eyes were flying everywhere. He had no time to think about anything else than the fight ahead, saving his Rooks’ asses at times.

Bodies were scattering the floor, and he unfortunately managed to spot a few green jackets in the lot- fortunately, they were rare and he watched with pride as his gang destroyed the opposite side, quickly going back to fighting.

While the majority of the enemies were outside ganking getting killed and kicked, Evie stood patiently waiting for them all to come out and infiltrated the building… by the main entrance. The simple wooden door opened smoothly, and the Assassin silently thanked Heaven for the lack of noise. Taking care not to be heard, she climbed up the stairs, heading right to where she _knew_ Thorne would be. The Templar was arrogant, and the chances she was hiding were awfully thin.

Passing by the great halls heavily decorated with plate armors, horse mannequins and gold spears, stone walls covered by shields, she headed straight for the room she previously saw her with her men.

Sure enough, Evie entered to find herself facing her current worst enemy.

Surrounded by five mountains of muscles, a devilish blood-red smirk on her lips, and letting out a little laugh.

“Miss Frye. Why am I not surprised?”

“You have some things that I want, Thorne. Few of your men are going to survive the bloodbath outside, and even fewer will still follow you in the aftermath. I suggest you surrender.”

“I suppose,” Thorne scoffed, taking the file from her desk and waving it. “this is what you’re looking for?”

“This…” Evie growled, “and your life.”

“Come and take it.”

The Assassin didn’t waste time. If her time in prison had taught her something, it was the efficacy of good old smoke bombs. Blessed be Arno.  
In less than a second, the room was filled with heavy gray smoke, and all five of Thorne’s bodyguard started coughing their lungs out- their weapons falling on the ground with a thud. In a few precise hidden blade slashes, Evie cut their throats without blinking an eye, and threw herself at a now fleeing Lucy Thorne.

Evie Frye, in all her Master Assassin glory, was exhausted and longing for an important kill. She smiled sweetly in front of her target’s wide eyes, before plunging her blade in the woman’s neck with a victorious cry.

Lucy Thorne, in all her arrogant Templar glory, didn’t manage to stay alive long enough to threaten the life of the Assassin Brotherhood and watched, helpless, as her worst enemy left her to die in a pool of her own blood.

The smoke disappeared and Evie stood up, getting the file of information she needed- making sure she had every single document. Without a second glance, she let her dead target’s blood paint the wooden floor of the Tower of London and left the building.

Outside, the fight was still going on, although there seemed to be more Rooks than Blighters at the moment. Jacob was clearly winning. She looked for him in the crowd, and for a second their eyes met. He stopped fighting for a moment and saw the papers in her arms, nodding. _Go._ She smiled, and took off in a sprint.

A shadow as always, she managed to get past any guards left without a problem, and stole a carriage to go back home.

Jacob saw her escape and took the luxury of breathing a bit, observing his surroundings. He could barely see black and red jackets now, the awful green of the Rooks’ outfit clearly dominating taking over the field. The few survivors fell to their knees, begging for their lives or for a second chance, and he grinned at their victory.

Tonight, he was paying the beer.  
Her horse was panting and shining with sweat by the time Evie got to the Brotherhood’s headquarters. She left the carriage (and the poor horse) on the side of the road, walking (not running, stay calm) and opening the doors to the inside with a victorious smile and a satisfied look. Henry was the first to look up when she entered, and one glance at her face was enough for him to smile as well. 

“I heard about the Rooks attacking the Tower of London, Miss Frye,” he started. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that?”

She stopped in front of his desk, let the file of classified French Assassin Brotherhood information fall with a loud noise, and looked back at her Grandmaster.

“I have Arno’s intel. A big chunk of the Blighters has been eliminated by Jacob and the Rooks. And cherry on top,” she said, waving a finger in the air, “Lucy Thorne is dead, her plans up in flames. She was about to get a French army to destroy us, thanks to this file.”

Her smile widened when she saw the look of pure stupefaction and utter pride on her superior’s face. She took a deep breath, and turned around, letting the other Assassins in the room watch her depart in silence. 

She went straight to the dormitories, her walk slower, trying to calm the butterflies in her stomach. The stress, pride, happiness, love. Love?

She stopped dead in her tracks, trying to get a hold on her feelings. She was just going to visit Arno and announce the good news, before letting him rest. That was it. (no, it wasn’t)

She took a deep breath and knocked on the Frenchman’s door, surprised to find him still awake, lying eyes open on his bed with a leg hanging on the side of it. He jumped when she appeared, instantly sitting up, and winced when his shoulder tensed at the quick motion- barely managing to keep his balance.

She was by his side in a flash, helping him sit up straight, and he quietly thanked her. He didn’t, however, hide his surprise at seeing her back so quickly.

“What happened? Why are you here already?”, he spoke lowly.

Her smile warmed his heart for many reasons. “I got it, Arno. We got it,” she said. “and even managed to help our own cause at the same time.”

His breathing became heavier, and she watched the spark come back in his eyes.

She didn’t get to appreciate it long enough before he grabbed her and covered her mouth with the angry kiss of a desperate man finally released from his self-created shackles. When he ended it to take a breath, he whispered “Thank you” and took her in his arms, burying his face in her neck. He was free.

They stayed in each other’s arms for a while, content in letting themselves calm down in the comfort of their mutual body warmth.

In the end, Evie was the first to break apart to fetch him a clean shirt, since he was going to go back home. He didn’t see the twitch in her smile.

Dressed and clean, they finally went together in the main room to talk to Henry, who smiled when he saw them up and good.

“I arranged everything, a boat should be waiting for Arno tomorrow morning,” he smiled. “In fact, Miss Frye, why don’t you go with him? Stay in France for a while. He needs an escort, and you definitely deserve a break.”

The joy was more than apparent on Evie’s face, and she eagerly accepted her Grandmaster’s offer; Arno excused himself with a smile, saying he was going to pack and rest, silently urging Evie to look behind her. She looked at the door, and there stood her brother, still glowing from his victory, opening his arms to hug her.

“Everything good, Evie?”, he asked.

“Better than that. And, I’m going to France tomorrow,” she stated, waiting for his reaction.

He gulped. “Well, as long as it makes you happy. I’m driving both of you to the ship, though.”

“I think we can work with that,” she smiled.

 

The time came and Arno said goodbye to the entire Brotherhood, as did Evie. True to his word, Jacob did use one of his carriages to take them both to the port. He hugged his sister one last time and let her get on the boat, before turning back and being met by the Frenchman’s open hand and hopeful look.

Letting out a breath, he didn’t hesitate for long before taking it into his own, and this one handshake seemed to erase the tense relationship they’d had since the beginning.

“You know, Dorian, if you hurt her, I’ll break your other shoulder.”

Arno genuinely smiled. “You do know your threats don’t scare me, Jacob?”

“I know,” the other man answered. “Try not to die, though, for her sake.”

“Same goes for you.”

Jacob let go of his hand and they both started turning around, each having their own matter to take care of. 

* * *

The trip in boat was long, the air heavy and the weather sad. Arno’s shoulder was still hurting, but he managed to hide the pain in front of people.

When they arrived in France, a long-distance carriage from Paris was waiting for them, paid by the Brotherhood. Arno gave the driver the exact address, and the second long trip started. Hours and hours of agony, of Evie looking by the windows, the horses’ hooves making constant noise on the road. At some point, he managed to fall asleep.

He woke up in late afternoon, almost evening, after a whole hour of napping, his mind confused by the sudden slowing down of the vehicle.  
Evie was sleeping as well, and he gently nudged her so she could watch around. Forgetting the sting in his shoulder for a moment, he waited for her to look outside and spoke only when her mouth formed an ‘o’ at the sight.

“Welcome to Paris,” he whispered.

The sun was up and the sky was clear, for once, the buildings bathing in warm light. The streets were crowded, everyone enjoying the good weather before the end of the day.

The carriage slowed down even more, confusing Evie, and turned in a small private courtyard. In the middle stood a little fountain, and numerous doors to the inside were opened. In the main door, apparently leading to the lobby, was standing a gruff man with long dark hair and a light blue outfit.

They came to a halt, and Arno opened the door on his side so they could both get out. Once they were both on the ground (finally), he approached the man from earlier, whose face lit up with a grin.

“ _Bienvenue, merdeux_!”

They hugged for a second, and the other man looked at his shoulder, clicking his tongue. Arno turned to Evie and started the introductions.

“Evie, this is Pierre Bellec. My Mentor. Bellec, this is Evie Frye.”

“Your got a girlfriend now?”

Arno was suddenly at a loss of words, relieved when she saved him. “That’s complicated. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said, extending a hand.

He shook it with a smirk. “Pleasure’s mine,” he exclaimed. “Doc’s waiting for you upstairs. I’m going to show Miss Frye to the dormitories.”

“No way,” Arno said with a snort. “I’m not letting her sleep on the stones you call beds. She’s taking mine.”

Evie sighed. “Arno, you’re hurt, you need to sleep on something good.”

“Well then I guess we’ll have to sleep together,” he said in a playful tone, raising a brow. “It’s not like your brother’s here to comment. If you want, he can give you a quick tour of the Café, though.”

She turned to Bellec, who nodded his approval. “I’d love that.”

“Follow me then, my Lady,” he said, entering the richly-decorated building.

Arno turned to her and kissed her on the cheek, for good measure. “I’ll see you later,” he said, going straight up the stairs.

Quick was a good word to describe the tour of the establishment. Bellec took her to the main room, the Café itself, with its little stage and its performers, clients drinking, singing and talking. He introduced her to Charlotte Gouze, who turned out to speak an excellent English and instantly loved her.

“It was about time this boy found himself someone to stand up to him. He can be really exhausting, you know, a real devil when he wants.”

“He’s always been nice and calm with me,” she said, making Bellec snort.

“Lucky you, then!” the woman said with a smile.

Next step was getting out of the noise and visiting the part she “didn’t need to know but I’ll still show you”. First came the intendant’s office, with the man in it. Pierre introduced her as someone _importante, donc respectez-la_ , whatever that meant. He showed her the dining room, with a table so long she wondered if anyone ever ate here. He passed quickly the kitchens, showed her the back of the building, and came back to the lobby.

“You can go up there now,” he said, pointing at the stairs. “There are only three rooms, you should be able to find him easily. I suggest you visit the others, though, you might be even more surprised than you already are.”

“Arno owns the Café?”

“He does. And the seven other main establishments in the city. Little bastard’s richer than he looks,” he smirked. “Never should’ve given him the damn building, but he did a great job at renovating everything and it’s useful for information, so we let him keep it.”

Trying to take it all in (that, and the fact that he never mentioned it to her), she thanked the man and slowly climbed up the stairs. Upon arriving on this new floor, she saw what looked like an enormous room on her right, and decided to start there.

The training room was basically a plain dark wooden floor, the walls covered in weapons from another time: swords mainly, long rifles, what looked like bayonets, pistols, enormous axes. A door went to the outside, but she decided to go there last. Bellec did mention three rooms.

She got out, and looked around. A corridor was close, but another door was opened on the hall, and it looked furnished with a lot of shiny objects.

She walked right inside, and her brain found it difficult to take in everything at once.

This was obviously a trophy room. Big shelves full of books or golden statues, a great fireplace (with no fire) on top of which was hanging an enormous shield. In the back of the room stood an armless mannequin torso, wearing a superb armor.

Why didn’t Arno tell her about any of this? Then again, he did take her here, and he was the one who suggested a tour, so she didn’t exactly blame him. Still. He was super rich. That might have been a good thing to tell her.

She got out of the trophy room. There was only one left, which meant Arno’s room was in the corridor. Evie took a deep breath and entered directly, slowing down once she was in the door frame.

The room was pretty tidy, and she didn’t even look at him when she saw the two doors leading to the outside. She finally decided to go there first, discovering the little garden with yet another fountain. The view was nice.

Yup. She liked this place.

She went back in and saw the doctor leave the bedroom, while Arno (shirtless _again_ , but with a nice, clean and tight bandage around his shoulder), stood up from where he was sitting on his bed and approached her.

“So, what do you think?”

She crossed her arms. “Why didn’t you tell me you were this rich, Dorian?”

He visibly gulped and looked at his feet. “I’m not…” he frowned. “ _rich_.”

“Yes you are. You totally are. And you failed to mention that to me. Did you think I was superficial enough to only be interested by that?”

“I didn’t!” he exclaimed, his head whipping back up. “I just didn’t think it was relevant. It’s not like I show it. Are you mad at me?”

“No. You did take me here, so I guess it wasn’t that much hiding,” she softened. “It’s a really nice place you got here.”

His smile was contagious. “So you like it. I’m glad.” 

He cleared his throat and took one of her hands in his. 

“I have to warn you. Since there’s no way any of us is sleeping outside of this bed, apparently, you should know that this,” he said, pointing at his hurt shoulder. “hurts more at night than it does during the day, because I can’t control the pain.”

“...That’s your nice way of saying that if you move and express the pain while you’re sleeping, I’m not allowed to complain in the morning?”

“Exactly!” he said, kissing her forehead.

The day was ending, and the Café was emptying due to the day drinkers going back home. Only a few were still there after 8, and they quickly enough went away to let the establishment close for the night.

Thanks to this, Arno and Evie were able to eat in the main room, alone, in private, watching the moon rise through the great doors.

They bid goodnight to anyone they crossed paths with before reaching his bedroom. They took off enough clothes to sleep comfortably without making it too intimate (even though they both secretly wanted it to be) and got under the covers, sighing in the dark. They exchanged a quick and sweet kiss, before drifting off to sleep.

Arno clearly suffered through the night, moans of pain and sudden jolts of muscles indicating his discomfort- but he didn’t wake up.

Evie, on the other hand, spent most of her night awake in a half-sitting position, her lover’s head on her chest, stroking his hair and whispering soothing words in an attempt to make him relax.

It seemed to work, but she did at some point fall asleep as well, and they slept tangled with each other.

Arno was the first to wake up, and winced when his shoulder wished him a nice day. He lifted his head up, admiring how peaceful she looked when sleeping, before she started to stir due to the feeling of him moving. He smiled.

“Morning, beautiful.”

Eyes still closed, Evie smiled and put a hand up above her head to shield them from the sunlight. She opened her eyes to the adoring gaze of her favorite French person, and in an awfully domestic move, moved to kiss him good morning.

When they went down, dressed lighter than usual, they took a coffee and a tea in the Café, silently observing the employees getting the tables ready for the day. After what you could call a very light breakfast, Arno took Evie’s hands and started retreating to the lobby, her following obediently with a questioning look.

“Today you’re going to meet my superiors,” he chuckled.

They went to a corridor just before the main room. A turn followed by stairs going down, and they found themselves in front of a strong wooden double door.  
Gentleman, Arno opened it for Evie and invited her in.

With awe, she looked around at the rocks in which the Sanctuary seemed to be carved. Candles and skulls were the only thing lighting the floor, and she felt a hand on the small of her back after the door closed.

Hand in hand, they walked slowly and attained a long corridor. The columns were richly decorated, big statues of Assassins watching over them, and the floor was covered with a long, long red carpet.

That was definitely different from what she was used to.

Mason hadn’t been lying. Everything looked rich and golden and beautiful, and she stopped breathing when Arno led her to the last staircases in the way. In the distance, another big space was barred by a large door, but she could see the giant Assassin symbol.

They climbed up, in no rush, surrounded by yet more stone men and women of another time. The last room was all wood and red, books and candles. On the left, in a separated space, two men and a woman were arguing calmly in front of a map.

Their talking stopped when Arno and Evie approached, and they looked over their own with both worry and relief.

“Arno,” said the woman, short but threatening. “Bellec told us what happened. How is your shoulder?”

“A bit sore, _Madame_ ,” Arno answered, briefly looking at the ground. “But I’ll survive.”

She nodded, and her male colleagues silently asked about Evie with a single look.

Arno jumped. “Oh, hm, this is Evie Frye,” he said, looking at his partner. “Evie, this is the Council of the French Brotherhood. Sophie Trenet, Guillaume Beylier, and Hervé Quemar.”

Gulping, Evie tilted her head. “It’s an honour.”

Quemar smiled. “The honour is ours, Miss Frye,” he exclaimed, standing up from his chair. “It is nice to see _someone_ managed to tame Dorian, God knows we tried, but he’s impossible.”

She raised her brows, turning to her boyfriend with a questioning look. He raised his hands in defeat. “Guilty.”

Beylier, seemingly the friendliest of all three, smiled at the two lovebirds. “The only reason we keep him is because he’s a valuable asset and a great Assassin.”

Arno took a deep breath and looked at the floor again. “Speaking of, did you get the file we managed to take back?”

Sophie was the first to answer. 

“Yes, we did,” she stated.

Evie, sensing the discomfort, asked out loud what Arno was wondering internally. “Is everything in it? Is there something missing?”

Quemar sighed. “Yes, it is complete. Work well done, as usual,” he announced. Then, clearing his throat, “Arno, the Council wanted to apologize for the letter we sent you. We get that it was a little harsh and we are sorry.”

The Assassin smiled. “Don’t worry, I don’t blame you. It’s Evie who deserves your praise or excuses, though,” he said, ignoring the fact that she wanted him to get the credit. “I was too wounded, so she finished the job for me. That’s one of the reasons why I brought her here.”

This revelation seemed to silence the entire group, and Evie’s face was red. She turned to Arno, silently killing him with her eyes, and he sent her a look assuring her he didn’t care. She did it. She was getting the credit, whether she wanted it or not.

Beylier was the one who broke the silence. “In this case, Miss Frye, is there something we can do to show you our gratitude?”

She opened her mouth to speak, pausing for a second, before settling on an answer. “Just please let Arno keep his rank. That would be enough for me,” she said.

“That is something we can do.”

 

Evie stayed in France for a few days after her encounter with the Council. Arno’s state made it impossible for him to go back to work just yet. Instead, he took his time off to show her his city, just as she had done for him on the other side of the sea.

He took her to the rooftops to admire the view, showed her the important places and all the detours, and they watched the sun go down from the top of Paris’ buildings. She discovered the bars and the people, the markets and the children running in the streets, the wine and the dancing, _tried_ to learn a bit of French and overall smiled more than she had ever smiled before in her life.

Evie looked happy, and the sight made Arno’s heart flutter every single time.

On the last day, before the carriage taking her up north to the ride back home arrived, they shared a string of kisses both sad and hopeful in the quiet of his private garden.

“You better come visit, _trésor_ ,” he told her with a smile, even as the idea of her leaving was physically painful.

“Right back at you,” she answered, trying to hide how much she wanted to stay.

“I love you,” he whispered before they heard hooves signaling the carriage’s arrival.

“I love you too,” she replied, tears in her eyes, before taking what little luggage she had and leaving. She departed as fast as possible, just so she wouldn’t be tempted to stay.

She would come back. And he would come to see her in London. They both knew it.

* * *

The carriage door opened, and Evie got out with a silent thanks to the driver. The facade of the Café was just as she remembered, and she (more anxious than she'd ever admit) walked through the large doors. She had been there the last time more than a month ago, anticipating the moment she'd come back. Deep inside, the fear was just the result of how excited she was to be here again, even after visiting multiple times for short periods of time.

Arno was aware she was going to come, but she hadn't told him when exactly, wanting to surprise him. She was now regretting this decision. What if he was working? What would she do?

The big room was crowded, people were singing and drinking. Not knowing where to go, she looked over every one and found the reassuring sight of Charlotte Gouze's dress. In quick steps, she went over to her table, and gently saluted her. The woman looked up and a bright smile covered her face.

"Miss Frye! What a pleasure to see you again!" she exclaimed. "I didn't know you were coming. How are you?"

"I'm fine, Madame, thank you. Arno didn't know either, at least not in details. I wanted to surprise him. Do you know where he is?"

"Oh, that boy. He's probably upstairs doing God knows what. Stay here, enjoy the songs, I'm going to fetch him for you. Do you want me to _not_ tell him why he must go downstairs?"

Evie smiled and nodded, watching Mme Gouze as she went to the lobby and up the stairs.

She suddenly felt pretty alone in this French establishment, not really knowing anyone and not exactly speaking the language. Still, she got up, much like most of the clients, and listened to the couple on stage who were singing at the top of their lungs.  
The man was the most involved, she thought as she approached the stage a bit more, avoiding the big gestures of people singing along.

_Ah ! dites met qui vous a donnet,_  
_Ah ! dites met qui vous a donnet,_  
_Ce biau fichu que vous avet !_  
_Ce biau fichu que vous avet !_

Truth be told, this was a terrible song. Good thing to sing when you were drunk, but awake in her current state, it was giving her a headache more than it was entertaining her. Especially since she couldn’t understand a thing. 

_Mossieu, c’est m’n’amant,_  
_Quand je le vois j’ai l’coeur ben aise !_  
_Mossieu, c’est m’n’amant,_  
_Quand je le vois j’ai l’coeur content !_

The woman’s voice was even worse, to be quite honest. Evie was starting to wonder why she was even listening to this, instead of going back to the table so she could be away from the stage, at least a bit.

She didn’t have time to think this through or make a move, though, because something gripped her wrist and practically yanked her away from where she was standing. The slight dizziness passed, she looked at the person she was following and found a very recognizable brown hair.

They went down a short staircase between the bar and the stage, followed by a stone corridor, and finally entered a dimly lit and comfortable-looking room, before the man spinned around so she could crash on his torso. As expected, she found herself facing Arno, who let go of her wrist and slid his hands on her hips instead.

“You hid your arrival date from me,” he said, with the puppy look he was so good at giving her. “I’m hurt.”

She smiled and put her hands on his neck. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“Well I _am_ surprised, _trésor_. Welcome back.”

Evie groaned. “I was so nervous coming here,” she said, toying with a loose strand of his hair. “and there you are being an adorable boyfriend already.”

“Why were you nervous?” he asked, raising his brows.

“Because it’s been almost two months.”

“It has,” he answered. “and I missed you.”

“I missed you too, so much. Jacob gives me hell for still wanting to go back every time I come home.”

He chuckled. Their foreheads collided and they breathed each other in for a brief moment, before Evie leaned in to gently press her lips against his. He obliged by letting her kiss him more deeply for a few seconds, and she slowly broke it. He sighed, eyes still closed.

"How long are you staying?"

"I have an assignment here this time, so about a week. Might become two, if _someone_ helps me work faster."

He laughed. "I have work too, you know?" he asked, holding her a bit closer.

Evie cocked her head. "None of it is as important as me though, right?"

"Not one bit."

“Good,” she said with a smile. “What are we going to do with all this free time I’m sure we’ll have?”

Arno smirked and his voice got low. “I could think of some things,” he whispered. “We wouldn’t even have to leave the place.”

Her mouth opened wide and she took a step back, slapping his arm. “Arno Dorian, I can’t believe you. I only just arrived!”

He bit his lip, trying to look sorry. “I’m kidding. A bit. I mean, I was half serious, you know? Lots of other things we can do,” he tried. “Please don’t be mad.”

She turned around, faking annoyance, arms crossed, pretending she wasn’t already forgiving this behaviour. He approached and stood behind her, snaking his arms around her waist and lightly kissing down her neck, smirking when she shivered.

“You know you can’t hate me for longer than five seconds.”

“Yes,” she said in a sigh, facing him again. “unfortunately that is something I cannot control. But I’m still mad. What do you have to say for yourself?”

Arno gave her the fondest smile he had in store. " _Je t'aime, trésor_."

Evie smiled as well. "I love you too, _Loverboy_."


End file.
